


The Consort

by Blizzaurus (Pisara)



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Royalty, An extreme guilty-pleasure fic, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Slow Burn-ish, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 86,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisara/pseuds/Blizzaurus
Summary: One could say Raquel Murillo was having a pretty bad year. First, she had found herself a singer without a band after her manager - who also happened to be her abusive bastard of an ex-husband - showed her the door. Secondly, she was forced to sign a contract with a greedy record production company just to stay afloat, and now the said company had arranged her to perform privately to the king of Spain as a publicity stunt.As terrifying the prospect was, she'd rather stand in front of the king for a few measly hours than give up singing altogether.Besides, what was the worst that could happen?...Wherein King Sergio II falls in love with a basque singer.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 516
Kudos: 951





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory disclaimer: As much as I have drawn inspiration from the royal families of both Spain and Britain and from Itziar Ituño's band Ingot, my fic is in no way meant to represent them! This is all just good old guilty-pleasure fun.
> 
> And also, I need to apologize to people waiting for me update Filling the Lines! I'm a bit stuck with it, but I promise get back to it once inspiration strikes again. Meanwhile, I will give you this cheesy nonsense.
> 
> I'll try update at least once a week, and you can hold me accountable for that haha

_15 Years Ago_

It was when Andrés pulled the car over to the McDonald's drive-in that Sergio decided this was going too far.

"No, we are not doing this."

He reached out to the door handle in order to escape only for his brother to lock it with a definite click. He gave it one useless yank. Sergio, the prince of Asturias, the future king of Spain trapped by a childproof lock - this Saturday night had truly reached a new low.

"There is no chickening out now," his brother warned. "By agreeing to come with me, you also agreed to everything else this escape might entail, and that includes midnight snacks in the case of any sudden peckishness."

Sergio was about 75 percent sure Andrés was doing this only to annoy him and was not even remotely _peckish_.

"This is a stupid risk and you know it. What if someone recognizes us?"

"Stop fretting. If you can handle the risk of getting recognized where we are going, you can handle the risk of potentially giving some poor night shift employee at McDonald's a story to tell his friends."

Sergio was starting to regret saying yes to Andrés after he had coming knocking on his door at the Zarzuela Palace just when he was getting ready for bed. _One night of freedom_ , he had promised. _A live show at midnight in a teeny tiny venue in downtown Madrid he had to see. No personal protection detail, just two brothers having fun like two perfectly regular guys._

He certainly wouldn't have agreed to come if he had known Andrés hadn't even notified their protection teams or any of the staff before taking off. Now they were completely off the radar, and probably on fast track to giving their father a heart attack once he discovered they were gone.

"C'mon, don't tell me you're suddenly too good for McDonald's."

Sergio absent-mindedly shook his head. He had been to a McDonald's plenty of times before, more times he could count with his friends from the rowing team, but he always had a tail of secret service agents lurking nearby and his panic button at his fingertips. But now, they were both vulnerable to any and all attacks. Both Sergio and Andrés were big men and any potential abductors would have a hard time taking them, but that didn't mean it couldn't _happen_.

Not that Sergio was especially afraid of someone targeting them. He just wished at least one measure of security to plead to when he would inevitably be skinned for this tomorrow morning. If only the car Andrés had somehow managed to steal from the groundskeeper was at least bulletproof..."

"It is a slippery slope from taking one extra stop for a burger to getting kidnapped, or worse, on the cover of tomorrow's ¡Hola!," Sergio grumbled and pushed his glasses up his nose. There was something comforting about the gesture. It reminded him of his childhood when he had not yet been forced to wear contact lenses to look better in official pictures. Besides, it was amazing how much glasses changed one's appearance. Hopefully, there was no mistaking him to heir of the throne with them and his grey newsboy cap; he looked more like a substitute teacher from 1960s than a man with any ties to the royalty.

"If someone wanted to kidnap a royal, they would go for the British kids. Who wants some Spanish nerd when you have got William and Harry?"

"Hey," Sergio said. His glasses slid down again, but he refused to nudge them up. That wouldn't be doing him any favors in this argument.

"And speaking of the other alternative... it would do you for some good to end up on at least a couple of tabloids. You're 26, and you have to yet get arrested for public intoxication or get photographed with your tongue stuck deep in the throat of some French underwear model. The press is going to start to worry if you don't cause at least one scandal at this pivotal age. It's time you had a little adventure - even if that involves some minor kidnapping."

Sergio gave him a glare.

It was easy for his brother to talk so light-heartedly about tabloids. He had been notorious even as a toddler. He was the bastard son the reigning king had gotten with an Italian actress and whom he was determined to raise alongside his legitimate son. That was already enough material to keep the scandal sheet industry funded for decades. And on top of it, Andrés turned out to be a well that would never dry up. With his three divorces already at the age of 30 and penchant of getting involved in incidents ripped straight out of telenovelas, he was the apple of every gossip columnist's eye, and the fond feelings were mutual. He loved seeing his face under outrageous headlines. 

Sometimes, Sergio wondered whether his brother pursued debauchery because everyone simply expected it of him. It was a vicious cycle. 

He felt quite differently about people who made a living tormenting the people closest to him. Andrés might not care what they said about him in the papers, but Sergio _did_ which was he'd make any paparazzo that would try to harass him tonight regret their life's choices.

Finally, it was their turn on the box. First trial of whether this had been a colossally bad idea or only an astonishingly bad idea.

Andrés was wearing sunglasses, but the smile he flashed the cashier was the one so frequently plastered on the covers of the trashiest tabloids of Spain that it would be a sheer miracle if he wasn't recognized. Sergio prepared for the impact by sinking as down in his seat as humanly possible. 

Luckily, the young girl said nothing. The glasses were either able to fool her or she was simply too far into her shift to care.

"Card or cash?"

The rest of the transaction passed by in an odd haze. Sergio was filled with odd nervous energy throughout it. They really were doing this. They were really just ordering late-night snacks before heading to a show like two perfectly normal and forgettable people. It was exhilarating, in a way.

Once a brown paper bag containing their food was thrust to Sergio, he couldn't help a smile from breaking out on his face.

They drove off, and Sergio was barely able to keep his elation in until they were out of the driveway.

"That was... he began, the smile still glued to his face. "Magnificent."

"Told you!" Andrés nudged him into the shoulder with his elbow.

He continued with a reverent voice. "It is about time you learned about what true freedom is. Going wherever you want whenever we want. Eating when you are hungry, sleeping when you are tired. Stopping by the side of the road, zipping down your pants and relieving yourself when you feel like it. You have never truly lived before you have done it."

"I'm going to stick to the burgers for now," Sergio said, wondering what the press would think about the royal dick flopping free on the side of M-30.

Finally, he eagerly unwrapped his burger and bit into it. He was pleased to discover the dry steak tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten in his life.

* * *

After they had enjoyed their meals and spent a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out how to work a parking meter, they were finally walking to the venue in the cool autumn air of Madrid.

So, who exactly are we going to see tonight?" Sergio asked, pushing the cap a little deeper into his head. He was no longer too nervous about being spotted by a paparazzo or a criminal syndicate, but now that he'd gotten the first taste of freedom in the form of a cheap burger, he would hate for someone to recognize him and take the illusion of normalcy away from him.

"Ah yes, we are going to see..."

Andrés paused, his pupils rolling up his eyes as if trying to retrieve a fragment of a memory. Sergio frowned.

"It is was some basque band. They had a pretty singer, R.... something."

"Please don't tell me you dragged me all this way to see "the hottest new band in all of Spain" you can't even remember the name of."

His brother made a dismissive hand gesture.

"The name of the band is not important. Tonight is about the experience! You get to enjoy a proper night off, free from your duties and your titles. You get to listen to some good music, and it has to be good because otherwise they wouldn't be playing here, and you get to drink, and most importantly, you get to chance to pick up a girl for once in your life."

"In case you forgot, I have a girlfriend," Sergio said dryly.

"You mean that prissy heiress that has basically been contracted to make a few public appearances with you just that papa can keep the press convinced you are a perfectly normal heterosexual man with a perfectly healthy libido? Do you really think of her as your _girlfriend_?"

"Well, no, but it would look bad if anyone caught me talking up someone else than her."

What Sergio didn't want to disclose to his brother was that lady Rosalie had quitted their little arrangement just a few days prior. Despite being a well-bred daughter of a Marquess, the press had gone after her like a pack of ravenous vultures, sinking their claws in her and only spitting her out when every stain in her personal life and ancestry had been exposed. It was no wonder she couldn't take it anymore. Sergio would have done the same in her situation. 

The real reason he was not too enthusiastic about the prospect of picking up a girl was the fear of what she would have to endure if the press got a whiff of even one flirty exchange. He wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

Besides, Sergio was fairly certain there was little chance of him even succeeding in what seemed to be as easy as breathing to his brother. Andrés seemed to have put his conversation on a pause in order to eye at some of the girls flowing down to the same venue.

"Tonight is shaping up to be better than I even dared to hope. So many gorgeous, classy women without a date, just waiting for a refined gentleman to approach them…" he glanced back at his brother. "Sorry, what were we talking about again?"

Sergio rolled his eyes in the irritated but fond manner usually reserved for one's brother. What else had he truly expected from Andrés arranging a night off for him?

"Something about girls, as always."

"Ah, right! Have you thought about the fake identity you are going to give any girl you hit it up with?"

"Actually, I have," Sergio said proudly. "It's Salvador Martín. Salvador from my favorite surrealist painter, and Martín from a character in Voltaire's philosophical satire _Candide_. Salva for short. I am studying to be a history teacher and bottle cider as a side hustle."

To Andrés' credit, he resisted the urge to sigh wearily for entire four seconds after hearing Sergio's answer. "Just when I'm beginning to think you actually have hope of not remaining a virgin for life, you open your mouth and let out something like that."

Sergio shrugged and pushed his hands in his pockets, smiling. He didn't mind his brother's teasing. "Salva is not supposed to be a high society rake like you. He is designed to attract as little attention as possible. He is just a simple guy, coming to enjoy the renowned musical talent of _R... something_ and go home as soon as it is over."

" _Sure_ , but you are going to have to be at least a little more exciting if you don't want to end up boring the girls I'm going to bring to our table into tears."

"Very funny. I'm going to kill you if you even think about bringing strange women to our table."

Andrés laughed.

Both of them thought the other one was joking.

* * *

Andrés _did_ bring women to their table.

They were perfectly nice, good sort of girls who seemed to think him handsome, but his paranoia that they wanted something other than what women usually wanted from a man they were flirting with did not relent. The second he got even the slightest suspicion that they knew who he was, he became aloof and tight-lipped which effectively drove them away one by one.

After the second pair Andrés had managed to convince to join them had left, tossing back their heads and scoffing, his brother's patience finally wore out. "Could just relax for one second? They are _girls_ , not piranhas. Though I suppose you wouldn't know the difference."

Sergio ignored him and fixing his eyes on his shoes. There was something about the crowded hall and all those eyes sweeping over him that made him constantly want to loosen his tie. He simply couldn't blend in for the life of him. Earlier when he had gone up to the bar to get himself a drink, there had been a woman there who had smiled at him. Not knowing what to do, he had simply nodded at her like she was the Ukrainian ambassador standing on the other side of the room at the annual royal Christmas banquet, and then escaped with his drink as if afraid of pursuit.

He had not stopped feeling nervous ever since, and it was starting to look like he wouldn't be able to unwind enough to even simply enjoy the performance. Maybe this simply wasn't his scene and it was foolish to pretend otherwise.

He tried to lean back in his seat and relax, but he couldn't tune out the sounds of his brother talking to the people of the neighboring table. Based on their voices, both of them seemed to be women. 

Sergio deemed it the wisest to just get up and leave before his brother would thrust a yet another problem on him.

"I'm going to go," he muttered, causing his brother to groan out loud.

"Don't be an idiot. The show hasn't even begun yet."

Not bothering to answer, Sergio simply got up from his seat and stepped up to the hallway.

That was when the lights dimmed a fraction. The show was about to start. Bloody perfect timing.

Still, he could be able to slip out if he was quick. He turned to leave but found his feet unable to budge.

They were rooted to the spot for the simple reason that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen had walked up to the stage, and there was nothing else he could do but _stare_.

For a moment, no one else but Sergio could see her. Everyone around him was still immersed in their conversations and their drinks. He alone watched as she walked up to the microphone in her little black dress. She had to rise on her tiptoes in her ballerinas to be able to readjust the height of the microphone. When it was finally at the level of her cherry-red lips, she smiled and wrapped her fingers around it.

"As much as I hate to interrupt your lively conversations, we are legally contracted to do a show here tonight, and they'll throw us out if we don't. So please, oblige us.

Gentle laughter followed from the audience who only now seemed to have woken up to her presence. Sergio was still standing, too stupefied to move for a reason he couldn't understand.

Her eyes passed through the crowd, studying everyone who was going to be listening to her tonight. Her gaze stopped at him, and their eyes met for one breathtaking second. 

Then she smiled teasingly as if she was admonishing from trying to leave.

"The first walk-out before we even started. This must be a new record," she rasped out. 

More laughter from the crowd. A bashful smile spread across his features, but he was not embarrassed. Instead, there was something gut-stirring about being noticed by such a woman. He hadn't quite heard what she had spoken to the audience. Instead, he had only taken in the message he had seen in her brown eyes. _Stay_.

And so he did. He lowered himself back onto his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. 

The band started playing after the woman had finished counting down from three, and the pleasant melody made Sergio happy he had decided to return to his seat. But then she started singing, and that made him regret he'd ever considered leaving in the first place. 

Her voice was soft and raspy like molten chocolate. It made him feel heady and the most attentive he'd ever been at the same time. His throat suddenly feeling dry, he took a gulp of his drink and focused on the lyrics. 

Her first song was about longing after one's home after which followed a lighter song about life on the road that really roused the atmosphere in the room, making the crowd clap and stomp their feet against the floor. The third song was more similar to the first one and by the time he heard the first lilting words of it, he was completely enrapt.

Not even a volcano erupting under his nose could have moved him from his seat. He was faintly aware of his brother having vacated the table for the neighboring one, but for the life of him, he couldn't say when it had happened. In the whole world existed only a single moment, and that consisted of her sweet voice and dark brown eyes, and nothing else.

Sometimes, her eyes met his as she sang, making him momentarily think that she was singing to him. He didn't think it was because she recognized him. There was never even the remotest hint of surprise or curiousness in her eyes. Instead, they were filled with something he couldn't put into words. Something that made him feel like just a man, listening to a beautiful song. It was wonderful.

He knew it was ridiculous, but he could swear he was the one man of all the people in the room she most sought out and on who her gaze lingered on the longest. Had she noticed he couldn't take his eyes off her? Did she feel it too, this thread insistently pulling him to her?

But her eyes always eventually flickered away, and he decided he was only imagining it. 

And then, she looked into his eye again and he felt quite differently once more.

"And there is no rest, no freedom, only a song from the radio," she sang, and it was hard not to feel like she didn't see into his very soul. Only when she lowered her eyes from his, Sergio was able to breathe again.

After the first song, he had not taken a single sip of his drink and it lay quite forgotten in his hand. Only when the seventh song of the night began, he found his fingers nervously tightening around it. This far in the show she had stayed on the stage with her band as Sergio generally anticipated musicians to do, but now, she stepped out of the stage with one light step.

She started circling amongst the tables in the room, singing a song that made Sergio shiver. It was about a man loving a woman who was completely ill-suited for him. Every time he went to see her in order to tell they couldn't be, he ended up falling back into her arms. The crowd didn't seem as engaged with it as with the other songs, perhaps because it was getting rather late and the alcohol was slowly vacating their systems. Sergio thought it a great crime because this had to be their best song yet. The rich, velvety tone of her voice as she sang about persistent desire was almost unearthly. 

She stopped sometimes to run a teasing finger along the arm or a leg of a listener which only added to the sensuality of the song in Sergio's mind. She walked past his table, and his eyes landed the lacy trail of her high-low dress which was treacherously close to him.

He was briefly consumed by a compelling, unexplainable desire to grasp the fabric with his hand and let it slide through his fingers. Just one innocent touch and whatever it was that was burning inside him would be sated. Unconsciously, he reached out his hand to do just so. 

Just when he'd managed to brush his thumb against the fabric for the briefest of moments, the singer happened to turn her head and saw him.

Her eyes met his much like a flame meets a drop of gasoline and for a second, the world stuttered to a halt. An enigmatic look flickered across her face. She parted her lips to sing the next lyric, and this time there was no mistaking who it was directed for.

_And he touches, but it is not enough, and he goes home wishing he'd done more..._

Listening to the words felt much like someone pouring heated water over his naked skin. Sergio looked up her, breathless. She stepped closer. She continued singing and put her hand on his shoulder as she'd done with the other members of the audience. To Sergio, it felt like someone had grazed him with a hot poker, and he was not sure how the others who she'd done this to had been able to continue drinking and talking to their companions after this as if nothing had happened.

But it did not stop there. Her hand on his arm was only the precursor for what was to follow. Slowly, torturously, the woman lowered herself to partly sit on his knee. 

"Wishing he'd done more..." she continued softly, pushing herself bit by bit up his thigh.

He was quite positive his heart had stopped the second he had felt the heat of her body on him, but that didn't quite explain the hummingbird-like speed of his pulse in his throat. 

He tried to stay something but was robbed of his breath when she fixed her brown eyes on his. He had never seen them so close before. Her pupils were dark and dilated. It was almost as if he was seeing the burn he felt inside reflected back from hers.

His fingers twitched and clenched, desperately trying to stay put but she was so _near_. The divine sensation of her breath caressing his skin as she looked at him sent a blaze spreading through his body. He was completely lost in her.

After what was like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time, she was gone. She rose and walked away from the table, leaving Sergio breathless and stupefied and hungry - hungry for her to come back and finish the song whole looking into his eyes.

Watching her walk back, he was consumed by yet another kind of desperation. It was almost as if something primal to his very being had been wrested from him and he couldn't imagine life after.

He had never felt like this. 

He sank deep into his seat, trying desperately to snap out of it. There had to be a rational explanation to the feverish state he was in. The sense of intoxication he felt in this room was only because of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins at his escape from the royal palace and from the fact that she a gorgeous woman only moments before been sitting on his leg.

Hell, it was not as if something like this happened to him every week.

He grabbed his drink from the table and finally downed it. With the bitter liquor burning in his throat, he watched the woman finish the song after which it was the time for thank yous and farewells. That had been the last song for tonight.

The audience exploded in applause in which Sergio joined only several moments later after being startled out of his stupor. The woman smiled and gave a tiny bow along with the band members. He desperately hoped for an encore, but it seemed that this was it. The bear-like bass player had already hopped off the stage to start untangling the jungle of cords connecting their instruments to the stereos. A man with harsh, serious features approached the stage, and Sergio saw her crouch down in order to talk to him. 

Sergio began feverishly leafing through the booklet that he had found in the menu tray, trying to find even a crumb of information about the performer. Finally, he found tonight's schedule.

_SAT 22:00 - Raquel Murillo & Indarra_

_Raquel_ , he whispered in his mind. It was nice to finally learn the name of the woman who had bewitched him so. _Raquel, Raquel._

At once, his brother seemed to materialize in front of him. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning.

" _Nice_. Next time I'm going to leap off to my feet like an idiot too if that's how I will be rewarded."

Sergio wasn't sure what he was talking about for a moment, so stupefied he still was, but then Andrés pantomimed the motion of the singer sliding up his leg and quirked his eyebrow.

Sergio evaded his eyes, unable to form a verbal answer. He found himself at quite a loss of words from which he wouldn't recover anytime soon.

"Hell, that truly was one of the most breathtaking women I have ever seen," Andrés sighed wistfully and slumped into his own seat.

Sergio could only nod in mute dismay.

"I've decided; after she has wrapped up there I'm going to go to her and offer to buy her a drink."

Sergio's reaction was lightning-fast. His grip around his glass tightened into a vice and he snapped his head into his brother's direction.

"No, you won't."

There must have been something genuinely threatening about this tone because Andrés actually looked unnerved for a second. Then his eyes crinkled and his face brightened into one of his insufferable smiles.

"It seems that she left quite a mark on you. Can it be true? My little brother, attracted to an actual woman? Is this real or am in the wet dream of the Spanish press?"

"Oh fuck off, will you?" Sergio grunted. He turned to look into the direction of the stage and saw Raquel marching away, looking strangely agitated. She stopped by a door at the back wall, but before opening it, she cast one more look at the audience. For a fraction of a second, it was almost as if she was looking straight at him. But then she turned and vanished through the door, leaving Sergio clueless to the meaning of the gesture.

Andrés released a hearty laugh at that drew his chair closer to his. "I really touched a nerve there, didn't I? You should have just said so. I'm a gentleman, I never pursue someone else's quarry."

"First of all, you have to stop referring to women with hunting terms. And secondly, it's not like. She gave a fantastic performance and deserves more than some man propositioning to her right afterwards," Sergio said, still staring at the door.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind if it was the crown prince propositioning to her."

"If I go to her, I go to her only to thank her for tonight's performance. There will be absolutely no propositioning nor talk of my title. I'm just Salva, a regular guy who enjoyed the show."

"Suit yourself. You might even stand a chance as regular old Salva. If I was that sort of a performer, I'd only get handsy like that with people I was attracted to."

Having Andrés point this out had a weird effect on Sergio. His stomach knotted as he considered the possibility.

_She had been attracted to him._

He didn't have the faintest idea whether it was true or whether this was just a bit she did at every show, but his own feelings on the matter were harder to deny. He had quite possibly never wanted any woman this badly in his life. 

It was as if he was burning up with a fever, and the only way to get any semblance of relief was to follow her through that door and slam her against the wall and-

He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do. All he knew was that he wanted his hands on more than just the fabric of her dress and to see the look in her eyes as she had sung to her once again.

"What are you waiting for? Go talk to her before she is gone and you miss your chance."

Sergio was not entirely sure whether that been something his brother had said or whether it was his internal voice. He was in a haze, all of his thoughts pinpointed in one thing. _Her._

He slowly rose from his seat and walked to the door. No one paid any mind to him, the rest of the crew was too busy packing up their equipment and none of the staff even glanced his way. If they had tried to stop him, Sergio would have been very tempted to pull up "heir to the throne" card for the first time in his life just so that they would let him see her.

He entered in a dimly-lit hallway that had stairs going up, probably to the dressing rooms of the venue's performers. His fingers curled around the handrail as he prepared to ascend. 

He imagined her already having kicked her shoes off and taken her hair down in the room. Perhaps she was currently rolling her pantyhose slowly down her legs. The vision made him swallow, hard. 

But his feet refused to move. He remained standing at the bottom of the stairs, feeling more and more ridiculous by each passing second. 

_What was he doing here?_

He knew he wanted desperately to find her. But what would happen after? 

He knew what would be his first instinct after seeing again, but he couldn't just march up there and crush his mouth against hers and slide his hand under her little black dress. No, that wouldn't be proper. 

He couldn't even go up there and tell her the truth of the unbearable pitch of yearning she'd roused him to.  
No. Even if she had felt the same connection and welcomed him with passion equalling his, what was next? 

He would have to leave soon in order to avoid his personal protection officers from noticing he was missing, and he didn't know the next time he would be even able to see her again. He was half-tempted to just take her with him, but that would only lead to bigger trouble.

What could he offer besides the damned spotlight and the same that had happened to Rosalie?

He was probably mistaken in what he'd thought he'd seen in her eyes anyway. It was better - and certainly safer - to stay away. 

His decision was sealed when he saw a man emerge out of the room upstairs. It was the same man that had spoken to Raquel before. Perhaps he was someone special to her, far more special than Sergio would ever be. 

His fingers uncoiled and let go of the rail. He slipped back out of the door before the man could see him.

"Thank you for the show," he told the crew members who were finishing up packing. They smiled and nodded at him. "Please, tell your singer she was unforgettable," he continued.

Before any of them could answer, Sergio walked away, feeling oddly heartsick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel gets some surprising news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the second chapter already because why not. I will try to keep this pace up :D
> 
> There is a little easter egg for Spanish speakers. I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself.

_Present_

"Sign down there. And one little signature below that one too."

Raquel bit her lip, but did as told. Just a few scribbles on the paper and her future was secured. Still, she wished it didn't feel quite so much like selling your soul to the devil.

Señor Prieto sitting opposite her at the table did not work against the image in her head. He was smiling, but in that sickly sweet manner that made her skin crawl.

Before she could even look down on the contract and contemplate on what she had done, he snatched it and slid it away.

"It is a pleasure doing business with you, señora Murillo. On the behalf of Estrella Records, welcome to the family. We are _exalted_ to have you here."

 _Family_. That was what Indarra had been. Compared to it, Estrella Records seemed like an orphanage from hell based on what Raquel has been hearing about it. The haven of artists now one else would sign and treated accordingly. But there was no choice. She had to get a job and fast if she even stood a chance of winning her daughter's custody. And after Alberto blackballing her to every single other record producing company in Spain and some even abroad, she should be grateful to even get a chance to sit here today.

So she forced a smile on her face and rose, glad to get out of this room soon. Despite having vast windows, it had felt like a prison cell constantly closing in on her.

Prieto shook her hand by the door. His grip was limp.

"I'm looking forward to our meeting next week about the new direction we are going to be taking with your career. With us, every song will be like _Mira como se va_."

Raquel nodded tightly. "Yes, though I doubt too much has to change. My fans are loyal."

A smile spread on Prieto's face, but this time it was plainly unpleasant. "Yes, but we are looking to widen your appeal even more so. Starting with your clothes."

"My clothes?" Raquel asked, and Prieto's eyes swept over her figure. She didn't like it one bit.

He gestured vaguely to her chest. "The whole sexpot thing, I get it. It was the part of your appeal, and may I say, the reason people went to see Indarra in the first place," he let out a tiny guffaw. Heat flushed through Raquel's body. "But years have passed. You are a woman in your forties now. The same tricks won't anymore. We are going to completely reinvent your look so that fans that were previously turned off by your, hmm, provocativeness, would be willing to give you a chance."

There was no bigger offense than having a man lecture you about promiscuity while staring at your chest at the same time. Raquel felt like kneeing him into the balls.

But there was no jeopardizing her career before she had even begun. She had already stayed unemployed long enough for her family to start to feel it. Besides, she had faced similar treatment in Indarra with Alberto and his opinions on her clothes. At least Prieto was unlikely to get physical in case she disagreed with him.

"Trust me, your image needs all the help it can get after all those… _incidents_ in your personal life."

Raquel opted not to answer. That was what they said, didn't they? If you don't have anything less acid to say than your average glass of lemon juice, keep your mouth shut.

After Prieto had dismissed her, Raquel marched through the lobby with as furious speed as she could manage in her heels. She feared she would do something she'd regret if she stayed even one more second in this sleek, grey hellscape.

Soon, she heard someone jogging after her. "Raquel! Wait up, Raquel!" called out a familiar voice. 

_Ángel_.

She had expected him to leave after seeing her to this building in the morning. The negotiations had been expected to take several hours, after all. She didn't know how to feel about the fact that he had stayed here the whole time, waiting for her in the lobby. It could be just because he had nothing better to do. He was just as unemployed as she had been moments before.

When Alberto had kicked Raquel out of the band for "creative differences" that of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she had reported him for multiple instances of domestic assault and filed for divorce, Ángel had marched out right with her. It was like a scene straight from Jerry Maguire - but in this case, the coworkers were not off to an even more successful career. Ángel was even worse off than her. He was a bass player and not exactly a virtuoso one either. It took exactly two days for Indarra to find a replacement for him. She, for one thing, would be harder to replace, but the thought did not give her much comfort.

Ángel finally caught up with her. "How did it go? Did they sign you up?" he asked breathlessly.

"They did."

At that, Ángel looked so very much like a happy puppy wagging its tail that Raquel felt regret course cold inside her. If only she had been firmer with him and forced him to stay in Indarra. He would resent her when he eventually understood that his loyalty would not yield him any of the results he wished for.

Raquel's face must have reflected her emotions because Ángel's smile faded. "I'm really sorry it had to come to this."

"Don't worry about it." Raquel pursed her lips together and turned to open the entrance door, but Ángel was quicker and opened it for her. He made an awkward little chivalrous bow. She smiled at him and walked through, suppressing a sigh.

"Fancy a drink? You sure look like you could use one," he suggested next as they climbed down the stairs leading to the building. 

Raquel considered declining, but then again, she wished for nothing more than some company right now. Her mother was out and Paula was at her friend's birthday party which would still go for another three hours. She couldn't bear going to the empty house alone just now.

"Sure."

The way Ángel's eyes brightened made her instantly regret her decision. But it was not as if she was spoilt for choice. He was her only friend as of now.

* * *

It like the universe had set out to torment her. During their second glass of wine, _Mira como se va_ started playing on the radio. Both she and Ángel grimaced.

At least the song gave her a good excuse to finally let out the question she had been holding in all day.

"So, have you heard anything from the band?" she asked with a weak voice. As much as she hated it, she craved to hear what was going on in the lives' of the people who had been almost family to her for so long.

"I did talk to Suárez last week. Says it is not the same without you. They all miss you."

Raquel managed a small smile at that. "I miss them all too."

The band had been a part of her life for almost two decades. It had been first put together on a drunken dare in the university, their first debut being a song Raquel had written half as a joke. It began as huge undertakings usually began; everyone pretending to be casual about it until they weren't.

They had gained moderate success playing at amateur hours and venues the size of a broom closet until they had finally scored big and managed to snatch a recording deal. They all either left their fulltime jobs or dropped out of the police academy in Raquel and Ángel's case. But it had been all worth it. For ten years or so, they had been living the dream, gathering a loyal fanbase by playing in small but trendy venues in Madrid, touring Spain and recording albums at their own leisure. They were just popular enough to pay their bills but not too much to lose the spirit that had made them start out in the first place. 

But then all had changed when Raquel had married the band's manager, the man who had originally discovered them and _Mira como se va_ had happened. Suddenly, they had made it to all the top 10 charts across Europe. There were millions of hits on their music video which had led to interviews and television appearances. People had started to recognize them on the street. They got fangirls - and fanboys. That was when Alberto had tightened his leash around her. He had started dictating when she could go out, what she would wear and who she could hang out with, all the while pressuring her to produce another song as a big of a hit as _Mira como se va._

But that had never happened. They remained a one-hit-wonder and good so. Raquel probably couldn't have borne the pressures of the limelight along with the pressure she experienced in her own home. 

Finally, she had managed to free herself from the man who had made her life a living hell, but that meant that she had to give up what had brought meaning to her life in the first place. Her band.

However, it was a small price to pay for the safety of her daughter. If only she could get the court take her case seriously now.

Finally, the song faded away with a man from a neighboring table who had clearly had too much drink finishing the final verse. "Mira, mira, mira como se va..." _Look at him go._

"I wish that song could just die already," Raquel muttered and gulped down the rest of her wine in one go.

"It's funny, the shit you put the least effort in always ends up what people are wild about," Ángel grumbled.

They smiled at each other. A rare moment of bonding.

However, Ángel shattered the atmosphere just a second later. "You could always go back, you know. Plenty of divorced people still work together. You would just need to..." his voice faded off.

"I would just need to what, Ángel?" Raquel asked tersely.

"I think Alberto was really wounded by all those accusations, Raquel. I mean, if someone claimed I had done something like that to my own wife, I would be devastated. Not to say I don't believe you because of course I do, and I am there for you, I just think you could have been a little less harsh. Maybe if you take some of it back, maybe just some of the stuff that is a bit blurrier and that you are not so sure about, he could-"

Raquel curled her fingers into fists so forcefully she felt her nails digging into her flesh. But before she could voice what exactly she thought about Ángel's assumptions, her phone started ringing.

She dug it out of her bag and gave it a quick glance. It was señora Olivarez, the mother of Paula's classmate. If it had been any other person, she might have been able to ignore it, but anything related to her daughter instantly launched her into action.

" _Dígame_ ," she answered quickly, ignoring Ángel's question about it who it was.

"Raquel? It's Maria Olivarez. I just wanted to ask you whether it was okay to let Paula leave a little earlier with her father. He came to pick her up, and I just wanted to confirm it with you because you said you would be picking her up yourself at 9."

Raquel's blood froze.

"Do not let him leave with her. I will be right there," she said with a shrill voice and hung up.

She shoved her phone into her purse and started violently tugging on her jacket. "Ángel, I am sorry but I have to go right now."

"You could have just said you didn't want to have a drink with me," he grumbled, looking very sour. "I could have handled it."

Deciding against dignifying him with an answer, Raquel slammed a couple of bills on his palm and rushed out of the door.

Only when she was outside she realized she was in no condition to drive after the two glasses of wine. _Fuck_.

She had no choice but start hunting for a cab which was a practical impossibility in this district. It took fifteen minutes of running in high heels before she managed to spot a free one and twenty more before she was at the house of the Olivarez.

Alberto was already there, leaning against his car and looking extremely long-suffering. Paula was inside and looked to be playing on his phone. On the yard waited also confused looking señora Olivarez.

Raquel climbed so fast out of the tazi she almost stumbled on her heels and fell on her face. Luckily, the universe had decided to spare the last shreds of her dignity and she only took a wobble. That, however, was just enough ammunition Alberto needed. 

"For god's sake, have you been drinking?" he said, wrinkling his nose.

Painfully aware of the way her cheeks were burning, Raquel struggled to get her breathing even and straightened her back. "You have no right to take her. This is not your evening."

"I know, but I promised to take Paulita on a pony ride, and they are only doing those this weekend in Toledo. I texted her and asked her whether she would like to leave this party little earlier to get a head start on our little trip, and she said yes. I'm not taking her against her will," he said, in the insufferably reasonable tone that always made Raquel feel like she was out of her mind. "I'd hate to disappoint her now, she is already waiting in the car and has been for almost 45 minutes"

"I am sorry, señor Vicuna," said senõra Olivarez. "I shouldn't have kept you and your little girl waiting like this."

"It is alright, Elena," Alberto said and flashed her his most charming smile. "You did everything right."

Raquel felt like screaming. Was she really apologizing to _him_?

"No. You are not taking her. You are violating both our legal contract and the restraining order."

"You are the one who came all the way here and violated it yourself," he said nonchalantly. "Besides, you are in no condition to take our daughter home."

Señora Olivarez gave her flushed, sweaty and disheveled figure such a scathing look that it would have crushed her had she not been already through hell and back today.

Realizing she had no support in the situation, she fumbled for her final lifeline. "I'm going to call the police."

Alberto cast her an extremely pitying look. "Raquel, I know things are rough for you right now, but please don't take it out on our daughter. She has been looking forward to this so much."

Then, he did the most hateful thing he could have possibly done and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Go home and sleep it off. I'll talk to you later."

She could only stand there, stupefied, as Alberto walked back to his car and climbed in. She could not voice a word of protest as he turned on the ignition. Paula did not even notice her mother standing there, sitting up in her seat and beaming at her father instead as they drove off. Soon they were gone, and only an empty road stretched in front of her.

It took all of her strength not to burst into tears right there and then.

* * *

After another expensive taxi ride, she phoned her lawyer at home. There was next to nothing she could do. The investigation into domestic violence had been stalled due to the lack of evidence, and as long as the process was on hold, Alberto had the right to spend time alone with her daughter. Not even his violation of the visiting times held much weight because the "parents were expected to show flexibility according to the child's needs."

Raquel had truly accomplished nothing by storming there than giving Alberto's lawyer new material to work with. They were already building up a case of her being the very antithesis of motherhood with her career and appearance. Now they could add drinking to the list. All they needed now was for her to get a deadbeat boyfriend, someone the very opposite of her suddenly saintlike sister running the most perfect and stable household on the planet.

At least the last part would not be happening. She was determined never to fall in love again.

There was nothing for her to do but to think and wallow the next week. After the next weekend, it was Alberto's turn to have Paula which would mean she would have to spend the next 9 days alone. She did have her mother, but she was not much comfort. If she caught Raquel crying in her room, she would be as clueless to the reason why as any outsider. She simply didn't remember.

On Monday, she went to the studio to try out potential new looks. As she feared, Prieto was determined to make her look something between a stewardess and a 1950's housewife. Still, she did not complain. If it was her fate to become the next matronly folk music idol, she wouldn't fight it.

After that strenuous session, all she could think about was drawing herself a bath and shutting herself out of the world for at least an hour. An hour of silence and peace - just the thought almost made tears well in her eyes.

When she arrived home, she was immediately greeted by her mother who was overbrimming with enthusiasm.

"You will never guess what happened!" she said, smiling wider than Raquel had seen her smile in months. She couldn't help but smile back.

"What is it, mama?"

"The King has given an interview," she exclaimed and shoved her phone into Raquel's face.

"The King?" she frowned. As far as she knew, neither she or her mother had never been too intrigued by the doings of the royal family. Your average citizen's interest tended to wane after one of them got married six times. "Should I care?"

"Just look," Marivi said, still beaming from excitement, and clicked the video open.

"It has been exactly one year of the death of King Carlos and the coronation of his son, King Sergio who is currently the youngest reigning monarch in Europe at the age of 41. He has just arrived back from his diplomatic visit to Cuba, the only Latin American country his father did not have a chance to go to during his lifetime," recounted a female voice before the image cut to a finely-furnished room where the King was sitting with the journalist. 

He looked his usual self, a little wary and a little too formal. Raquel wasn't sure if she had ever seen him smile.

"Tell us, how does your father's legacy-" started the reporter to ask, but Marivi skipped ahead in the video until they were almost at the end of it.

"-To my understanding, the famous Cuban singer Sofía Hurón performed at the state dinner. She rarely gives performances. Was it your liking?" asked the reporter.

"Yes, she was wonderful. The trip was very culturally enriching," the King answered somewhat woodenly. Raquel had a feeling he was not the most comfortable talking about his own feelings and opinions which was understandable. His opinions could be taken to reflect Spain's opinion as a whole. Even if the King had hated Hurón's music, he couldn't direct the ire of an entire nation on her.

"There is no live music during Spain's state dinners, is there?"

"There isn't."

"That is a shame. Say, who would you want to perform if you were given free hands in planning the occasion?"

Raquel grimaced inwardly. _Stop asking him personal questions._

But instead of tensing, King Sergio opened up his posture, his face visibly brightening. "That is easy. Raquel Murillo."

Raquel's heart missed a beat. Marivi grinned at her. "What did I tell you?" she asked.

But Raquel's eyes were fixed firmly on the screen. She couldn't a word her mother said.

The journalist looked confused for a second. "Raquel Murillo?" 

Then she seemed to receive something in her earpiece. A smile soon spread into her face. "Ah, the _Mira como se va_ girl! It is an excellent song and an excellent choice, if I may say. Would you like her to perform that?"

The _Mira como se va_ girl. There was something very disheartening about her whole identity being reduced into one song. Still, it was nice to get noticed by someone in such a high position, even if because of that excruciating song.

His majesty's face twisted. "In my opinion, she and her band have many other songs that are even better. _Espejo_ , for example. Or _Me vas a extrañar_. My personal favorite, however, is _Solo un toque_."

Raquel could hardly believe the words she was hearing. Her heart burned warm and bright in her chest. No one ever spoke of those songs. Those she had written herself, and they were the dearest to her heart.

The King was now softly humming the melody of S _olo un toque_ and Raquel was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

The journalist laughed. "Seems like you are a big fan."

"I suppose so," The King said, having just realized what he'd been doing and shifting awkwardly in his seat. Raquel found it endearing.

Her mother closed the video. It had been attached to a celebrity news website with the title "King Sergio II - A fanboy in hiding?"

"I knew that would brighten your day," her mother said and smacked a kiss on her temple. "Isn't it wonderful that the King himself listens to you?"

"He certainly has a better taste in music than I thought," Raquel quipped.

This truly had managed to lift her spirits. It was as nice as it was terrifying to be seen and appreciated by someone, even if it was as distant of a figure as King of Spain.

"I am sweating like a pig. I'm just going to draw myself a quick bath and join you later for dinner, okay?" Raquel said and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. Then she rushed off to the bathroom if only to lock herself in, quickly turn the faucet on, sit on the floor and watch the video again in secret while grinning like a fool.

This time, she paused the video as he was talking about her music. He was actually smiling. She couldn't lie, the man looked quite handsome when he did that. He had kind eyes, not mention his dark wavy hair, strong and lean body and toned arms - result from his years in the military academy perhaps? He also looked ridiculously good in a suit. It was truly a wonder he had not married yet.

Raquel yawned, her thoughts drifting once again to the bath waiting for her. All men had their faults, and King Sergio's could be just impossibly high standards. Or perhaps he just didn't care for dating. He certainly seemed like the type.

She put her phone away, undressed and finally turned her gaze to the heavenly bath.

Tears almost sprung to her eyes when she dipped her first toe in the hot water. This was it. This would make all the ordeals of the day all worth it.

She let out a contented sigh as she sank under the surface. The water massaged her knotted muscles in an indescribable way. She would stay here until her skin was dry and wrinkled like a raisin.

She thought about the King's dark eyes and found herself wetting her lips.

She let her fingers rest on her abdomen, feeling shivery and not because of the hot water. There was a pleasurable fire crackling under her skin as always as she looked at King. It was not as if she was attracted to him, God no, but there was something about his complexion that always reminded her of that one dark-haired man that she just couldn't forget.

At one show in Madrid 15 years ago, there had been a man in the audience who had kept looking at her with such a fervent gaze her stomach still somersaulted at the thought of it. It was as if she was the only thing he'd ever wanted in his life. She could have sworn he did not take his eyes off her even once throughout the whole performance. She couldn't lie, it had made her feel very hot and bothered. There was nothing more arousing than being able to seduce someone with your voice alone. She had hardly been able to focus on the show, so eager she had been to meet his eyes again and again. 

It was like there had been a connection between them stronger than anything she'd ever felt. It was crazy. She hadn't known anything about him, but at that moment, she had wanted nothing more than to invite him back to her dressing room, climb on top of him and ride him until they both forgot their names.

During her last number, she hadn't been able to help herself. She had teased him, just enough to give him a little taste, but not too much to make it inappropriate for the show. Of course, Alberto had flown off the handle about it afterwards, but they hadn't been dating at the time so his feelings about it hadn't mattered. She had just ignored him, giving the man in the audience a meaningful look and going back to her room, hoping that he would come to her.

But he had never shown up. 

Imagining that stranger following her to her room was her most forbidden fantasy. She had entertained it even when she had been married to Alberto but had felt ashamed because of it. Being aroused by a fantasy of another man had almost felt like cheating.

But now she was free and could do whatever she wanted.

Her fingers started slipping lower. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, already desperate to soothe the ache inside her.

But before she could touch herself, the landline started loudly ringing in the hallway. Raquel let out a disappointed sigh and grabbed the side of the bathtub.

"Mama! Could you take that?" she yelled.

No answer. Raquel pinched her eyes shut and count to five before trying again.

"MAMA!"

There was only silence in response. Raquel rose from the bath so fast the water splashed over the brim. Cursing, she stepped out and wobbled to the door. She slammed it open.

In the situation she was in, she couldn't let a single phone call be left unanswered. It could be her lawyer or her daughter calling from a strange place or it could even be the police. You never knew with the landline.

So she waltzed to the hallway naked as the day she was born, dripping water onto the carpet. She dried her hand haphazardly, grabbed the receiver and brought it to her ear. "Raquel Murillo," she answered breathlessly.

"Have you seen the interview?" said Prieto, not bothering with any pleasantries before getting to the point.

"The interview? With the King?" Raquel asked, already regretting getting out of the bath for this. Yes, she knew getting mentioned by the King by name was a nice boost to her career and Prieto would surely want to discuss it, but did it have to be _now_?

"Yeah, just saw it."

"Our team took to action the second we became aware of its existence," Prieto said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Good news. We have a gig for you."

"Already? But I have nothing out yet-"

"No, you won't be needing anything new for this. Your old songs will do perfectly fine. Espejo and Solo un toque, whatever His Majesty mentioned. The thing is, you're going to be performing to him. This Saturday, when this thing is still hot.

" _What_?"

"A private performance to the King will shoot your name up to the skies, Raquel. The magazines already went wild about that interview clip. Imagine how they will react once they hear about this. It will be _everywhere_. The best thing that could happen to your career, honestly. I'm not even sure you deserve something this nice."

Before Raquel utter a single word in response, Prieto interjected again. "Oh and come into the studio tomorrow. We are going to pick you an outfit that matches the occasion. You are not going to stand in front of the king with your tits almost out."

With that, the call ended and Raquel was left standing there dripping wet and naked, feeling like someone had just scooped up her insides with a giant soon and struck her on the head with it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel meets the King.

  
In Raquel's opinion, she'd reacted better than probably most after hearing they would be standing in front of the King in less than a week. 

She did not suffer through a nervous breakdown even once during the 24 hours it took to get back to the studio to pick up her outfit for the occassion, though this could probably be attributed to the fact that the second she had heard the news, she'd slipped into impenetrable denial - the same kind of denial she had experienced multiple times given the numerous and creative twists and turns her life had taken this far.

In that haze, everything was alright. Sure, the most ridiculous thing that could ever happen had happened, but it was fine - the same way a giant flying zucchini was fine when you saw it in a dream. That was what it was, really. Just a dream. Any moment she would wake up now and laugh at herself for the ludicrous notion. Out of all the artists in Spain, the King wanted _her_ to sing to him? Ha! She might as well show off her tap dancing skills to the Pope while she was at it.

Thus, she had hardly thought about the matter before this very moment, surrounded by countless mirrors with Prieto's assistants thrusting garments in her hands while the man himself barked instructions at her about meeting the King. It was getting harder and harder to keep the reality from seeping in.

"The second you see him, you are going to curtsy, and god forbid if you embarrass this company by addressing him in any other way than it is appropriate. It His majesty and nothing else!"

"Do people still curtsy?" Raquel asked, bewildered, as Prieto's assistants circled around her like rabid hyenas, observing how the dress looked on her from each angle.

"Of course they do. This is not goddamn England, we do things properly here," Prieto said with patriotic vibrancy in his words. "And even if they don't, the people working for me _will_. It is a matter of respect."

Raquel doubted he had artists on his payroll that had come closer to the royal family than what they could see of them on their television screens but refrained from making this observation because she'd rather have anyone else in the world do this in her place.

She was starting to little by little acknowledge the fact that she was going to meet the King which also meant that she had to acknowledge the fact that she would do so while wearing what was, to its all intents and purposes, a tent. 

"This just doesn't work, señor Prieto," said one of the assistants, exasperated. "I know this outfit needs to be modest by regal standards, but it also needs to look good. This, frankly, does not."

Prieto cast an appraising look over her and sighed. "What would suggest then?"

"The third dress we tried was perfect for a woman of her figure, and with class and elegance to spare. It is fit for absolutely anyone meeting the King."

"The neckline was far too deep. She is there to entertain him, not seduce him," Prieto scoffed. 

Raquel supposed that even if she showed up there in her birthday suit, she had as good of a chance of seducing the King as Prieto himself. She did not voice her opinion though and quietly seethed in her spot instead. She hated him, and she hated this, and she hated Alberto for making her life what it was now.

"I have an idea. Get her ready," ordered the other assistant and disappeared into the other room. In the meanwhile, Raquel was helped into the dress in question and Prieto left the room. She had a good guess he wouldn't have done so if she hadn't darted him a look capable of making the devil itself slink away in embarrassment.

She was afraid to admit it aloud in case it would diminish her already slim chances of getting to wear it, but she really loved the dress. It was made of black silk and complimented her curves in a way that she had not thought was possible. The skirt stopped a little above her knees and it had the tiniest slit, something Prieto could probably let pass, but the top part was where the troubles began. Describing the neckline as generous was an understatement, and the sleeves were nonexistent. Only flimsy spaghetti straps were holding the garment over her shoulders.

But it was _beautiful_. It was just something she would have picked, but the days of choosing for herself were over. She could only hope that whatever the idea the other assistant had had would allow her to use this dress. She would do anything to get to wear it.

Soon, the assistant came with something that looked like a carcass of an ostrich dipped in purple paint and Raquel immediately took back her words. That boa was where she drew the line.

The feathery monstrosity was wrapped around her shoulders. Raquel was hardly able to glance at herself in the mirror. It was as if someone shot a purple gaggle of geese and she was their display case.

"It is perfect," declared Prieto to her horror. "It is very _chic_ ," he said, butchering the pronunciation of the French word. "Just what I had in mind."

The feathers tickled at her nose, and she pushed them away before she would sneeze. "Are you serious?" she hissed out. "This looks like something a Sesame street character threw up."

Prieto gave her a warning look. "It covers up your chest and shoulders, Raquel. If I were you, I'd be very grateful for having a job - a fact that might change if your manner of dress doesn't hold up the high standards of this company."

Raquel swallowed down an angry lump in her throat and said nothing, defeated.

Prieto's face soon morphed into something that could have been a sympathetic smile if you squinted and were determined to think the best of people.

"Raquel, dear, I have no doubt you won't absolutely nail the show on Saturday, but I must emphasize that this is going to be the most important night of your _life_. The fate of this company depends on you. We need him to say something about your performance to the press. This needs to leak."

"Won't the paparazzi you have planted on my way to the palace take care of that?" Raquel asked pointedly. Just moments earlier Prieto had speculated whether they would receive her in the front or the back of the palace, and calculated which would be the bests spots for the photographers.

"If they receive you at the back of the palace, it is over for us. They might not get even a single photo of you, and if there are no photos, there is no story. We absolutely need a story."

Prieto slumped down onto his chair, looking as defeated as a man just diagnosed with stage-5 cancer. "If only the King had allowed even a single photographer inside. How hard it is to pose for one fucking photo with you? I swear, I will never understand what prick has against the press."

"I thought it was his majesty and nothing else," Raquel muttered cheekily under her breath. Luckily, Prieto was too distraught to hear the barb.

"I almost didn't even get him to say yes to you. I had to convince him that you were dying to perform for him to finally accept," he grumbled. 

Raquel's heart stuttered to a halt.

"And he has the audacity not to even invite anyone important up there. Just seven of his personal friends, none of from the aristocracy and most of them screw-ups like that bastard brother of his. What is this, Friday night karaoke for him? I went into a lot of trouble to provide him this unique opportunity-"

"You told him this was what _I_ wanted?" she interrupted, her throat dry enough for the words to come out as a croak.

"I may have stretched the truth a little, but that hardly matters. You are excited to go there now, aren't you? So no one really lied. It's a win-win for all."

Raquel wasn't so sure about that. Not only was she forced to perform to the most powerful man of this nation, but she also had to pretend this was _her_ idea in the first place. She feared it would be rather impossible if she'd sweating in front of him as much as she was sweating just thinking about it now.

Panic was starting to settle inside her. It was ridiculous, she had performed to tens of thousands of people in her _Mira como se va_ days. Why was she getting so nervous now?

Prieto and his assistants chattered and were about to leave her alone in the room to change into her regular clothes.

"Remember, do not disappoint him," Prieto said, his one last warning before stepping out of the door with the two women.

Oh yes. That was the reason.

By the looks of it, the King was a true fan of hers and had been almost ever since the band's inception. He would have certain expectations which meant that the chances of disappointing him were sky-high. How the hell would she be able to please a man who probably could call up the national orchestra play at him during brunch? How could she live up to the standard he had been exposed to all his life?

Worst of all, she was alone now. Her band wouldn't be there to support her. This whole thing depended solely on her voice and manner of presentation.

She looked at herself from the mirror, the purple bird carcass on her shoulders and felt momentarily very depressed. 

Correction: this whole thing depended on her voice and her voice _alone_. She would have to give the best performance of her life in order to make him look past the atrocity she was wearing.

Best case scenario was that he would enjoy the performance - but she certainly couldn't expect him to praise her to the whole world like Prieto so desperately hoped. She could only hope someone managed to snap a picture of her so he would be satisfied.

Now that she was alone, she made a quick curtsy in front of the mirror. She would have to start practicing sooner or later, after all.

It felt as ridiculous as it looked.

* * *

After the humiliating visit to the studio, Raquel made one last stop at the market before the implementation of her plan of locking herself in her room and staying under the covers until Saturday.

While waiting in the line for the register, Raquel spotted a magazine on the rack designed to lure customers into slipping one extra item into their carts. It was one of those glossy-covered gossip magazines, and normally Raquel wouldn't be tempted, but this week was turning out to be an extraordinary exception in more ways than one.

ANDRÉS DE FONOLLOSA'S 7NTH WEDDING EXTRA - EVERY SHOCKING DETAIL FROM THE FEAST AT SAN FONTANA VINYARD

 _Jesus_. His seventh wedding. If any of the man's subsequent divorces had resembled hers, Raquel couldn't understand why anyone would put himself through it again - and 6 times at. She herself was quite confident she would never marry again. It was not worth the trouble.

She spotted the King's name on the bottom of the cover. He seemed to have been present at the wedding which was not too surprising. De Fonollosa was his half-brother, after all. Without really thinking about it, she grabbed the magazine. She would need to do all the research she could before Saturday, and this was as good as any. Perhaps it could reveal some embarrassing details about the royal family that would help her feel less nervous about meeting them.

She grabbed a candy bar from the rack in order to make it seem like the trashy magazine was not the only thing she was interested in. When the cashier eventually scanned it, Raquel brought the most "I don't normally do this" smile on her face as she could muster.

At home, she poured herself a glass of wine and dove into the world of celebrity gossip with embarrassing enthusiasm. Luckily her mother was not home. It would be hard to explain why she was suddenly so interested in leafing through a magazine that had just last week commented her allegations of abuse toward Alberto with a crude pun about her one hit: Mira como se martiriza - _Look at her martyrize herself._

Luckily, that had been all it had been said about it in any magazine. Once again, she was glad she was relatively unknown to the public.

She flipped open the first page and acquainted herself with the eventful wedding of the King's half-brother.

Apparently, the bride had disappeared midway through the banquet and Andrés de Fonollosa had almost gotten into a fist-fight with his uncle-in-law. Raquel was not surprised. It was just the kind of chaos she had expected to ensue. She sipped her wine and flipped open another page to take a look at the pictures of the bride's wedding gown. Too much like a cream cake to her tastes, but she still eagerly read about exactly what kind of lace had been used for the _mantilla_.

On the following page, there were paparazzi shots of the guests in attendance. All sort of celebrities had been invited, including some artists she knew. She wasn't even remotely miffed about being snubbed. Being able to claim acquaintance with Andrés de Fonollosa was not exactly her aspiration in life. She leafed through the pages with disinterest.

On the next page, there was the King's cousin, Arturo Román, smiling widely at the paparazzi. He was the next in the line for the throne in case Sergio never had any offspring of his own. For Spain's sake, Raquel hoped he would. A king like Arturo Román - the man who had cheated on his wife, tried to force his mistress to get an abortion, quitted his royal duties in disgrace after an embezzlement scandal, and then published a book about his suffering - would make Raquel want to move to another country just in order not to be associated with him. 

His picture had been paired, of course, with the picture of his once-mistress Mónica Gaztambide. The woman had attended the wedding with her new husband Ricardo Ramos. Perhaps even a bigger scandal than Arturo Román's affair had been was the result of it; The King had instantly befriended the woman who had dumped his cousin, along with her husband and his father. Now they all belonged to his closest circle despite not having a drop of noble blood.

These three were the newest addition to the group that the press had dubbed as 'Scandalous seven' to which Andrés de Fonollosa also belonged. The King's closest friends. The next few pages were dedicated solely to them which Raquel was not surprised by, given the name of the group. There would be plenty to report.

Photographed rolling her eyes at De Fonollosa's antics was Silene Oliveira, the King's childhood playmate and a daughter of a low-ranking politician. Her date for the occasion was Aníbal Cortés who, according to the magazine, was "nothing more than a programmer from some backwater town" and 10 years younger than her on top of it. The magazine speculated wildly whether she was making a statement or whether "a commoner kink" was some new trend amongst the high society. Raquel snorted and flipped the page.

On the next page there was a picture of a dark-haired woman dancing on a table, being twirled around by a big, bear-like man with a kind face and laughing eyes. According to the caption of the picture, this was the most outrageous thing to ever graze the pages of this magazine. This was Ágata Jiménez, the daughter of the former press secretary of the royal family. The magazine's grievance was not the fact that she was dancing on a table, but that she was dancing with a member of the security staff on a table. The man was not on duty, but the author of the article still enthusiastically called for his immediate termination from his position. 

Raquel rolled her eyes. There was no wonder this group was so riddled with scandals if the gossip industry seemed to count even the smallest transgressions as reputation ruiners. The scandalous seven, _sure_.

For a moment, she considered giving up reading this drivel altogether but then ended up turning one page more.

Her patience was rewarded. The next double-page spread was dedicated to the man she craved information about the most. King Sergio. Raquel sat up a little straighter.

There he was, sitting a little farther away from everyone else, his personal protection officers at both sides. He was unsmiling as ever.

Raquel wondered whether he was as exasperated at his brother's weddings as the rest of the country was. She had a faint recollection that his father, the late King Carlos had only attended only the first two. It was admirable, in a way, that King Sergio had taken part in every single one even after ascending to the throne. He certainly had the excuse of having more important matters to tend to now that he had the whole country under his rule, but still, in the second picture, he stood by his brother's side at the altar like the good brother he was.

In the third picture, he had been photographed observing the moment Andrés de Fonollosa had smeared a piece of his wedding cake on his uncle-in-law's face. Admirably enough, the King's face didn't even flinch. He must be quite used to this sort of things.

Raquel found herself smiling. Not every reigning monarch would want his face photographed in such an event. Still, she had a feeling he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

She folded the magazine in order to take a closer look at a particularly successful picture of his.

He looked really nice in his uniform and with his dark windswept curls. Accordingly, the caption below the picture mused over his lack of female companionship for the wedding.

Next to the picture was one of an elegant looking woman on a separate occasion.

_King Sergio's rumored girlfriend, lady Alicia Sierra chose not to attend with him._

Raquel let out a yawn and wondered whether poor Sierra was just one item in the long list of women the press attached to the king for simply breathing in his vicinity. She certainly didn't envy her.

The next page was full of speculation about whether Spain would have their own royal wedding soon. Raquel wouldn't be surprised if the writing staff already had the names picked out for their offspring. She chucked the magazine onto the floor, having exhausted her interest in celebrity gossip. 

* * *

The last few days before the performance passed by far too fast to Raquel's liking. Despite spending her time almost exclusively practicing her repertoire of songs (and curtsying), she felt helplessly unprepared when the car came to pick her up Saturday evening.

The necessary equipment and other crew had been already sent to the palace. She had put on her dress and the war crime that went with it, calmed her throat with herbal tea and gulped down a glass of wine to settle her nerves on top of it. Now all was left to do was to sit still in the car and pray to be photographed.

No such luck. The car chose the inauspicious route to the back of the palace and she was escorted in through something that looked like the staff entrance - and not even the primary entrance by the looks of it. It looked more like a glorified dog door.

She did not see a single flash or hear something even remotely resembling a camera shutter. She knew what it meant. The responsibility of all the publicity this night would yield rested solely on her shoulders. 

Raquel was taken into a parlor upstairs which seemed to be tonight's venue. The equipment had been set into the back of the room, and there had been sofas and armchairs arranged so that they were facing the "the stage." There were glasses of champagne set onto the trays on the tables, along with some light snacks. None of it looked too formal which surprised her a little. However, there was still no telling if she would be able to let her hair down at all tonight.

Besides the security guards posted at the doors, there was not another soul in the room.

She was here too early.

She looked around in the room, nervously wringing her hands until she realized what she was doing and stopped. This was not like her. She did not wring her hands before a performance.

There shouldn't be a nervous bone in her body because this was just like any ordinary day. Once the King arrived, she would look him straight into the eye, curtsy gracefully and then give the best show of his life because she was Raquel goddamn Murillo. She had gone through worse than this.

Determined, she sat onto the nearest sofa, took a glass of champagne from the tray, crossed her legs and began to wait as if she owned the place - which she practically did since her tax euros paid for the upkeep of it. Still, she was very careful not to spill her drink.

Seconds later, the door swung open and in stepped a young couple with an older looking man a step behind them. Raquel bounced off to her feet, prepared to curtsy.

"I don't understand, what even is Denver?" asked the man with dark, slicked-back hair. 

"It is a city in Northern America. They are doing cities this time around," answered the woman in his arm with a chuckle. She had a mop of light, curly hair the sight of which finally rang a bell in Raquel's mind. They had to be Ricardo Ramos and Mónica Gaztambide-Ramos, followed by the greying Agustín Ramos. There was no need to curtsy after all, but Raquel felt awkward seating herself down immediately again nevertheless. 

"Denver," scoffed Ricardo. "I don't even understand why the security needs code names for us. I'd much rather have them call me by my name than some random city. What does it even help if someone decides to take a shot at me? …Though it would be cool if the city was actually a good one. Imagine them yelling "Monaco is down! Or Paris is down!' That would be awesome."

"Let me get this straight, you want to get shot just so that you would get to be the namesake of Paris Hilton for a brief, glorious moment?" chuckled Agustín, earning a glare from his son.

"Yashin!" I want to know who is in charge of the codenames," Ricardo said, calling out to the burly security guard standing by the door.

He grinned in response. "Señor Ramos, I would not complain if I were you. There were talks of using planets as code names for you people, and you wouldn't have liked the one that would have fallen to you."

Ricardo didn't seem to get the joke at first, but after a moment his eyes widened almost comically. His wife giggled. 

"What are you and Radko called then?" she asked the security guard.

"I am afraid we are not important enough to receive code names," Yashin said and shrugged.

"Well, that is simply not true. I will think of something. Something close to Stockholm because you are both close to my heart."

Yashin let out a mock scoff and smiled down at her, his cheeks now a little pinker.

Only then Agustín turned his head and saw Raquel.

"And who might this be? he asked warmly.

Ricardo swung his head around. His brow rose once he took in who she was. But before neither of them could say anything, more people waltzed in.

"Ah, you are here already. Did you hear the code names have been changed?" remarked a raven-haired woman Raquel recognized as Ágata Jimenez. After she followed a woman with pale skin and short dark hair. That had to be Silene Oliveira if only based on her sullen, a hint defiant look alone. With her was Aníbal Cortés who was looking around him in awe. It struck Raquel that it might be his first time in the palace as well. 

"C'mon, Aní, it just hardly the throne room of Versailles. This corner of the Palace is the very bottom of the barrel, actually," Silene said to her boyfriend.

Aníbal frowned. "Why wouldn't he put us in the best room of the whole palace? The one where he dines with the prime minister, maybe?"

"Sergio is not a show-off, Aní."

Raquel felt an odd sensation pass through her after hearing His majesty be addressed in such a familiar way. These people really were his inner circle.

"I am not either, but I would certainly make an exception if I had it as bad as he had got it for that Ra-"

He was simultaneously silenced by Ágata's elbow to his rib and the sight of Raquel on the sofa. They had seen her.

"Why, if it isn't the star of the night," said Silene, looking like a mouse that had fallen to a gigantic grate of cheese. "Raquel Murillo in the flesh. And here we were thinking you would never show up."

Raquel frowned. "I am sorry. Was I late?" 

"Let's just say we had expected you to turn up in our lives a little earlier, but our dear Sergio is not great at taking initiative."

There it was again. It was not King Sergio or his majesty, just Sergio. Raquel felt a shiver run across her skin.

After these cryptic words, Silene plopped down onto the sofa next to her, and soon she was surrounded by the others as well. All of them gawked at her like an exotic animal which was certainly not what she had expected. She had thought _she_ would have the problem of being starstruck. These were all people who she had only seen in magazines this far, after all.

They gaped at her for a little while longer until Agustín snapped out of the weird haze they had slipped into. "I am sorry, we haven't even introduced ourselves. I am-"

"I know who you are," Raquel said and instantly regretted it. 

"Ah, you do?" asked Ricardo, looking somewhat flattered at being recognized.

"Well, not really. I just did some research before this."

She inwardly grimaced. Now it sounded like she had been stalking them day and night before the performance.

"Can't blame you for that. Girls gotta know what she is up against," said Ágata, smiling. "No worries. You will have an excellent audience in us. Big fans, each one of us. I really love that one song of yours-"

" _Mira como se va_?" Raquel asked, suppressing a sigh.

"No, no that one. What was it.... Oh, _Cállate_! Love that one. I always find myself humming it while cooking."

"My personal favorite is _Contigo_. It played at our wedding," Mónica said and gave her husband a kiss on the temple.

"I almost fired our newest recruit when he said that he hated _Historia de nosotros_ ," piped up Yashin.

"You were never going to fire him, you are too big of a softie for that," teased Ágata. "You just proceeded to play it at the highest possible volume for the next three weeks."

"The legend says that if you get Radko there drunk enough, he will sing _Tuyo, tuyo_ in a karaoke bar. Sadly, we have yet to succeed with that," commented Silene and leaned back on her seat. _No chance_ mouthed Radko from the corner.

Raquel listened to all this in a strange state of shock. She had never once met a person who knew any other song from her beside _Mira como se va,_ and now in a single instant, she had met eight.

"Oh," she said quietly. "You all really do like my music."

"Don't sound so surprised. You are amazing."

"We all love your songs," added Aníbal.

"Hard not to after befriending Sergio. He has infected us all."

Raquel's heart quicked at the thought of the King. She had almost forgotten about him. He could be here any moment now.

The rest of the night stretched in her mind's eye. She would greet him, curtsy and hopefully not make a colossal fool out of herself. Ideally, she would need to say nothing more to him and he would merely observe stonily as she performed. Based on his usual taciturn manner, he'd probably give her no indication of whether he liked her or not, but she didn't need that. All she had to do was to get through tonight without her voice breaking or her dress tearing or any other humiliating incident occurring.

She could survive this one night, and then she would hopefully never step a foot inside this building again.

Rather than expressing her anxieties aloud, Raquel feigned a smile. "You cannot possibly know how honored I am to be here. Getting to perform to such a man is a dream come true," she lied.

"There is no need for such platitudes," said a voice from behind her. Raquel turned her head with a start. There was a man standing there, his hands in his pockets and sunglasses hoisted on his forehead. The king's brother, Andrés de Fonollosa. 

He grinned at her. "The pleasure is all mine, lovely Raquel."

"Andrés! You know very well she was not talking about you," admonished Ágata. 

Raquel's hand that had been resting on the arm of the sofa was then gently grabbed by him. His lips lowered onto her knuckles.

"A man can dream," he rasped out and looked Raquel into the eye. "My brother is a lucky man to have you sing to him tonight."

Charm was oozing out of him like water from a soaked sponge. Luckily Alberto had been extremely effective in making her immune to all the wiles of the male kind so she merely rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand.

"Count yourself just ask lucky, señor de Fonollosa. I am not singing to only him," she corrected wryly. 

"Oh, but you are. Just like before, it will only be for him," he said, feigning a sigh.

Raquel frowned, but before she could ask what he meant her voice was drowned out by the others.

"Knock it off. This is exactly why I am not surprised to see you turn up alone," Ágata scoffed as Silene asked "Where is Tatiana?" with a sing-songy voice at the same time.

Corner of the de Fonollosa's ever so charming smile drooped. "There is no need for us to do _everything_ together."

Silene _tsk-tsk_ ed. "Problems in paradise already? I'm sorry to hear that. By the way, me and Aníbal are going to be traveling in South America from April to August so make your next wedding a fall one. I have made it to every single one this far and it is bad luck to break such a long streak."

"Oh, don't you dare."

The group erupted in a good-natured argument, some taking Silene's side and some Andrés. Raquel began strangely to enjoy herself as she listened to the jokes and witticisms fly about like darts. Everyone packed themselves around the same sofa and she was in the middle of the commotion. She smiled and took a sip of her champagne.

Ágata was in the middle of some bombastic speech defending winter weddings when she suddenly cut herself off, glanced at Raquel, glanced away and then glanced back at her again. "I am so sorry, my friends, but I simply cannot focus unless I adress the elephant in the room." She pointed at the boa on Raquel's shoulders with a trembling finger. "What in the holy hell is that?"

Others murmured in agreement, casting horrified glances at it. Raquel couldn't help but snort.

"I honestly have no idea. It is something they dug up at the studio."

"My guess is a laboratory experiment gone wrong," quipped Aníbal, touched at the feathers. He quickly drew his hand back, repulsed, as if he had been touched back.

"It looks like something crawled up from the ruins of Chernobyl," opinioned Ricardo. 

"Have you done something wrong? Is this some sort of revenge from your producer?" asked Ágata, all concern.

"My only crime is being a woman which according to him, should be hidden as well as possible," Raquel said dryly.

"Oh no, you definitely shouldn't hide your assets." Ágata snatched the boa off her and threw it over her shoulder. It was caught by Ricardo.

The man wrestled with the garment theatrically for a while, pretending it was a face-hugger from _Alien_. He let out a very convincing death-throttle, and Raquel burst into laughter. It was the kind of deep laughter she hadn't felt bubble inside her for the longest time. 

Ricardo finally won the fight against the boa and chucked it to the floor. Ágata encouraged Raquel to get off to her feet and confront the enemy. She did so, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. As they all cheered and clapped, she stomped the thing to death with her heel.

And just like that, she was a part of the gang.

* * *

In the duration of the next half an hour, the scandalous seven were already treating her like they had known her all their life. They asked her questions as if they were catching up with an old friend, mocked her producer with her, and expressed their sympathies and outrage about her being kicked out of the band. Silene went as far as to raise a glass in favor of her ex-husband's "dick shriveling up and dropping off like a ripe peach" which made Raquel almost choke on her champagne. 

Raquel didn't know what she had expected, but certainly not this. She probably wouldn't have been surprised if the people she ended up performing to here tonight ended up being as stuffy and fastidious as their high station as the King's personal friends would allow them to get away with. But no, they acted like any accidentally mixed-mashed-together family she had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. They teased and made of fun of each other mercilessly but everything they said was so fraught with profound affection that she had no doubt these people would gladly walk into fire for each other.

As she listened to the lively conversation and made her own wry comments, Raquel realized this might just be the longest time a smile had not slipped off her face since her university days. Perhaps this night wouldn't be so bad, after all. To her surprise, she was genuinely having fun. It was enough to take her mind almost completely off what was ahead.

It was nice, this feeling of comradeship. She thought she would never have that again after Indarra.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the door being slammed open and Raquel started. The chatter died instantaneously and a nervous silence fell to the room. There was a well-dressed male figure firmly approaching the sofa Ágata, Ricardo and Mónica were sitting on. The second he came close enough, she recognized him.

It was the King in all his imposing glory, his brow knotted and lips in a tight line.

Her heart leaped into her throat. 

This was it.

She felt herself flush scarlet red, the state of relaxation she had achieved during the last half-hour evaporating like fog in sunlight. No one had warned her that he would appear this suddenly. She needed time to prepare. She had only just now managed to mentally adjust herself to the fact she was currently sitting in a royal palace to begin with.

She wondered whether she should curtsy at once and already half-rose to do just so, but then, without laying one look on her, he stopped in front of Ricardo, turning his back to Raquel. Embarrassed, she lowered herself back onto the sofa. Maybe she had breached some sort of protocol already to get completely snubbed like this.

Then, surprisingly enough, the King ran his fingers through his hair and messed up his perfectly arranged curls.

"I'm losing it there. My tie… I just can't get it to look good. She is going to think I am some snot-faced boy who can't even tie his tie properly!"

"Uh, I am sure that won't be the case," said Mónica, eyeing Raquel. Only then she realized he hadn't noticed her presence at all.

The King kept tugging at his tie, anguished. "Just help me. I don't want to look like an idiot when she gets here. And please, sit up straight, Ricardo. How do you think she is going to feel like when he sees you half-dozing there during her performance?"

"Brother, you may want to-" Andrés began tentatively.

King turned to him, still furiously tugging at his tie. "And Andrés, you are not allowed three feet from her. Not a single word to her or I am going to have the security haul your ass off the balcony. For real this time. And I swear to god, if any of you do absolutely anything that wouldn't fly in the presence of the Pope himself, I am going to- _Fuck_ , someone gimme a hand here!"

Instead of helping him with his tie, Ricardo lifted his finger and pointed behind him. His majesty turned and took one look at bewildered-looking Raquel squeezed between Silene and Ágata on the sofa, a glass of champagne nervously clutched in her hands. He froze, the expression his face resembling one of a man just pushed off the ledge of a skyscraper.

Deeming that this was her window, Raquel leaped to her feet and made a clumsy, deep curtsy. Only halfway through it she realized she was no longer wearing her boa and had probably just given his majesty an absolutely magnificent eyeful of her cleavage. Mortified, she tried to get down on the sofa as quickly as possible. In doing so, she managed to accidentally knock the drink out of her own hand.

She watched as it tipped over in slow motion and spilled its content to the carpet that was, by the looks of it, at least several centuries old. She clenched her eyes shut.

A deep silence followed which was, after an eternity, broken by Ricardo's meat grinder-like laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments you left on the last chapter! Every single one of them was read multiple times and deeply appreciated. I am sorry I did not have time to answer them all. I'll do a better job with this chapter.

  
Sergio prayed so desperately for the floor to swallow him up that he almost didn't notice that Raquel had dropped her drink. 

Only the sound of shattering glass made him look down. The crystal glass had shattered into five clean pieces at the impact, and they had scattered around the carpet. Bewildered, he watched as the woman he admired   
more than anyone in the world crouched down to the floor and began desperately to fumble for them.

"I am-, so so sorry," she began and grimaced at the dark and wet stain spreading onto the carpet. "Shit."

Only a second later she seemed to realize she had cursed in front of the royal family. "Fuck, I was not supposed to say that. Not that either. I'm already fucking this up- Shit!“

Some of the utter mortification that had seized Sergio the second he had realized he'd made a fool of himself in front of her eased off. A surprised chuckle escaped him, and suddenly he was crouched down as well. Without thinking, he took her hand in his.

"It is alright," he said, his voice coming out hoarser than he'd anticipated because the second he had opened his mouth, she had lifted her eyes and his breath hitched in his throat.

Raquel Murillo was less than few inches from him, her cheeks beautifully flushed, her brown eyes wide and startled, her lips parted, and he had enveloped her delicate fingers with his own. It was enough to slow down any sane man's heart.

She was still just as beautiful as the night he'd seen her 15 years ago, even more so, because now he was close enough to distinguish to shade of her eyes. He could even see that she had a small nose stud.

Realizing he'd spent far too much time than was probably appropriate staring at her, he flashed her a flustered smile and began to help her up. She smiled back at him, embarrassed, her eyes averted. Sergio found himself longing for her gaze to hold his again.

"This was definitely not the first impression I was supposed to give," she muttered, her voice full of self-deprecation.

"Me neither," slipped out of his mouth. "I mean, I certainly didn't plan to present myself in the manner that I... did. I promise you, I can tie my own tie. Contrary to what it might look at the moment," he said, gesturing to his neck.

His words faltered, and he could just feel the idiocy radiate off him. Thankfully, Raquel snorted, and the delightful sound made his heart leap. But her eyes were still turned away from him.

"If I may say so, Your Majesty, I think the tie looks good just the way it is."

A curious tendril of warmth wrapped around his heart, and he suddenly didn't quite feel as inclined to sell his soul in order to redo the last five minutes. 

That pleasant feeling vanished once he realized the reality of the situation he was in. She was really here. Raquel Murillo was standing in front of him.

He cleared his throat, his mind suddenly blank. There was not a fraction left from all the conversations with her he had rehearsed in his head.

"Was your trip here fine?" he finally managed to croak out.

"It went well, Your Majesty."

Still no eye contact. Sergio frowned.

Raquel glanced at the carpet again and anguish marred her features.

"I am so, so sorry for the damage I have done-"

"Please don't worry about it," he said, attempting to use the informal _tú_ to make the situation lighter. "It was just an old, ragged thing. Not worth more than anything you could find at Ikea."

"I'd be more concerned about the glasses. Yashin told me that those crystal glasses belonged to his great-grandfather King-" began Ricardo but was effectively silenced by his wife giving his hand a violent squeeze.

Raquel's face went white, and Sergio strongly considered feeding Ricardo to the guard dogs in the yard.

"No, they don't mean anything either," Sergio said, attempting to remedy the situation. He picked up an empty glass from the tray and broke it promptly in half. "Believe me now?"

To Yashin and Radko's credit, they tried their hardest to hide their pained grimaces. 

"I believe you now, Your Majesty."

She had a beautiful, relieved smile on her face, but her gaze remained elusive, a faint blush still lingering on her cheeks.

 _Look at me_ , he found himself pleading in his mind.

He remembered dozens and dozens of similar reactions from people meeting him for the first time. It was not that they were shy, the imaginary significance they had attached to meeting him simply rendered even the most confident and high-standing people afraid of meeting his eyes, almost as if looking at him like another normal, mortal being would offend him somehow. He was quite used to it, but seeing that same expression on Raquel's face stung more than he thought it would. He didn't want her to shy away from him. He achingly, desperately didn't want her to see him as everyone else did. He would love nothing more than for her to start cursing like a sailor again.

The next moment, Sergio became painfully aware of how the others were regarding them.

Everyone around them was looking at him expectantly as if they were just waiting for him to burst into a song and sweep Raquel off her feet.

The most infuriating part of it was the smiles on their faces. Teasing, wide smiles. If his eyes did not fool him, he even spotted Agustín waggling his eyebrows.

Sergio gave him the subtlest death glare he could muster without alarming Raquel.

Now it was his turn to avoid looking at her. The crushing feeling that everything was already going wrong was starting to consume him, and he'd rather not see the evidence of it in her body language.

"Thank you for coming here tonight, señora Murillo. I'm looking forward to hearing you sing," he said stiffly. 

"It is a great honor, Your Majesty."

God, if she called him His Majesty one more time he was going to put his fist through the nearest wall.

Suddenly desperate for a moment to gather his thoughts, he sought out his brother's eyes.

"Andrés, a word outside?" he asked, gesturing towards the balcony.

Andrés quirked his brow but followed him to the doors without saying a word.

"Please, everyone, make señora Murillo feel at home," he said to the others, his words accompanied by a look that signified what exactly would await them if they did not treat her like a queen the next ten minutes or so. 

After his brother had stepped after him to the balcony, he closed to door and cut off the chatter of the parlour and replaced it with the nocturnal sounds of the outdoor air.

He propped his arms onto the edge and leaned into them, letting out a deep breath. Andrés took a cautious step to his side.

"What is it now? You are not really going to chuck me over the edge of this balcony, are you? 

After Sergio did not answer for a while, Andrés let out a half-exasperated, half-nervous chuckle. "Alright, I flirted with her even after you specifically told me not to. Shoot me. Mind you though, ladies like her would take more offense if I _didn't_ so..."

"This was a mistake," Sergio huffed out.

"Well, now you are just overreacting."

"I am not talking about you. This whole thing is what I am talking about. I never should have invited her. I should just make up some national emergency and send her home."

Half a minute or so passed without neither of them saying a word until finally, a low rumbling laugh issued deep from his brother's throat.

"Five minutes! That is how long you lasted in her company before throwing in the towel. I know you are bad with women but this- this is just awe-inspiring!"

"She won't even look at me," Sergio hissed out, turning to look at Andrés with a sharp gaze.

"So? Few drinks in, she'll be draped across your lap. C'mon, Sergio. An angel from heaven came down to your feet to present you this opportunity, trumpets a-blasting and you're wasting it?"

Sergio wouldn't exactly call señor Prieto's assistant from Estrella productions an angel sent from heaven, though he did remember she had certainly seemed one at the time. Sure, if someone's representative called your representatives, telling that the woman of whose voice you had been dreaming of for the past 15 years was dying to perform to you, you felt ecstatic at first. Only a few days later the reality had struck in and he had realized he had, in a way, betrayed his convictions when it came to _her_.

There was a reason he had been determined not to seek her out all these years. At first, it had been because he did not want to bring her the suffering that being associated with him tended to automatically entail. After that, it had been because she was married and strictly out of limits. Finally, it was because he was certain she did not even remotely reciprocate whatever it was he had felt for her for a decade and a half. The closest he dared to come to describing it was fanciful nonsense that should be locked away and stomped to death. It was ridiculous, after all. A rational simply being did not deem himself anything but fascinated after an extraordinary performance. It was nothing else. It couldn't be anything else.

"I just hate it. She is looking at me like the King," he said, sampling the last word like something distasteful in his mouth.

"That is because you _are_ the King of Spain. What did you expect?

Sergio didn't know what he had expected. Even the faintest of conjectures that had formed in his head beforehand about tonight's events started to feel laughable.

_She would step inside the room, and see him waiting for her. His suit and tie would be impeccable. Their gazed would meet, and something would spark in her eye. Recognition. A most beautiful smile would spread onto her face. She would step in front of him and…_

He couldn't say what next.

 _It has been 15 years_ , he berated himself. _It is a sheer miracle if she even remembers the faintest details of that night and those would certainly not include me._

"If I were you, I would just use the whole King thing to my full advantage," Andrés said and propped his hand languidly onto the balcony. "Go full crown and uniform, order someone be executed, that sort of thing. If I know one thing, it is that ladies love power."

"Andrés, do me a favor and shut up."

His brother shrugged. "I am just saying that you shouldn't turn your nose up at using every trick in the book in order to win her unless your plan depended solely on your natural charm. Then again, how has that been working for you this far?"

His brother's suggestion startled something inside him. It was as if he had upset some sort of quiet peace within Sergio by even insinuating Raquel was romantically available to him. It made him uneasy. He wouldn't have it.

"I have no intention to _win_ her. I am not going to pursue her in any way or form. You know I would never subject her to such a thing!"

"So you think the best plan of action is to simply continue mooning after her for 15 years more and hope nobody notices?"

" _Mooning after her_ , God, how many times do I have to tell you that she is simply an artist I admire tremendously? She has single-handedly written one of the most emotionally resonant songs this world has even seen, held up her band together for two decades despite our idiotic nation not appreciating said songs and all the while struggling in an abusive marriage to her manager! Can you even imagine what she has been through? Can you not see the incredible talent that has persisted despite all that?"

Andrès closed his eyes and wiped off a drop of spit from his cheek that Sergio had accidentally launched at him during his tirade. "Alright, alright. I get it. She is the most amazing woman that has ever breathed, you are in love, blah blah blah. You just go back inside and say all what you just told me to her face. You'll have her naked and wrapped up in your sheets by the end of the night."

Giving up any attempts to convince his brother, Sergio sighed deeply and rubbed at his face. "Just... give it a rest. You know I have a girlfriend."

"Not this shit again. In what way is Lady Alicia Snake-Eyes Sierra your girlfriend? Have you even been on a date with her?"

"We have been out multiple times."

"Alone? Just the two of you?"

"...No. But that is not the point. If you ask any reporter in Spain whether she is in a relationship with me, they are inclined to say yes which is exactly our mutually desired situation. Besides, she is promising. She has the right background, she is well educated and is an experienced public speaker. What is most important is that she doesn't even blink an eye at anything the press writes about her in association with me. One gossip column called her a frigid bitch and she just smiled."

What Sergio did not tell Andrés was that he was a little disturbed by how much Alicia rejoiced in everything people said about her. Then again, it was exactly what he needed at the moment.

"So she got the highest amount of points in your mental excel sheet? Jesus, you do realize that is not how love works, right?

"You know I need to be careful when it comes to matters like this. I have already ruined too many lives."

"It is not you that ruined any lives. It is the press. And if a woman truly loves you, she will not run off the second things get hard. She will stand by you despite the pressure of being the girlfriend of the King."

"I can't believe I'm actually listening to love advice from you. How is Tatiana, by the way?"

Andrés just smiled. "Fine, I'll drop it. Just answer me this one question."

"What is it?"

"If Alicia is such suitable wife material for you, how come you didn't invite her here then?"

Sergio had no answer for that. He looked uncomfortably away, signaling a victory for Andrés.

"C'mon, let's just get back inside," he chuckled and took a step towards the doors. "Your songbird is waiting."

Sergio followed him but halted on this spot the very next second. "Oh, how do I look? Is the tie-"

Andrés sighed and turned around. He grabbed the tie, adjusted it and slapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "You look fine."

Sergio smiled weakly back at him, and together they stepped back inside.

It was just one night. He could get through this.

When they stepped back into the parlour, the room was empty except for Raquel. She was sitting alone on a sofa whose back was facing them. Sergio saw her slowly sweep her head around and cast her eyes on him. In this angle and with the sofa obscuring most of her body, the thin straps of her dress were almost invisible. For a moment, it looked as if she was wearing nothing at all.

He swallowed, hard.

"Where is everyone?" Andrés asked while Sergio stood there, petrified by the enticing sight.

"Oh, Radko- the security officer said that he had some urgent information for your friends. It was confidential, so everyone moved into another room to discuss it and left me here. They said you should go there too as soon as possible, sir. But not you, Your Majesty. They said it did not involve you."

"Did they?" Andrés said, and Sergio could see the grin tugging at his lips. 

Sergio grit his teeth. He would bet his own throne that the urgent business his friends were attending to was standing on the other side of that wall with their ears pressed against it, trying not to let out a sound.

"Urgent confidential information. Hmmm. I better go see what that is about then," his brother said, not even attempting to hide the smile on his face now.

"I hate you," Sergio mouthed at him.

"Good luck," Andrés mouthed back.

He then stepped out of the room, leaving Sergio and Raquel utterly, absolutely alone.

A few dozen seconds passed in silence. Sergio rubbed at his neck uncomfortably while Raquel studied the ornaments at the wall like they were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. He sneaked a glance at her at the same time as she glimpsed at him, and for one fleeting second their gazes met. Raquel's darted away faster than a startled rabbit leaping to safety.

She looked absolutely terrified. He supposed he couldn't blame her. She had to be the first person not belonging to his family who had been alone in a room with him for years. Even Yashin and Radko had left the room. For the life of him, he didn't know how his friends had managed to convince them about the vitality of this scheme.

Suddenly, Raquel's face lit with a sudden realization. She shot up to her feet.

"Oh, I am so sorry. I shouldn't be sitting while you are standing. Pardon me, Your Majesty," she blabbered.

"No, no, it's alright," Sergio said hurriedly. "I'll sit too."

Then he proceeded to take a seat right next to her in the sofa which he only realized when she lowered herself back down onto it.

They were now sitting together on a small sofa with less than a few inches between their legs. The sensation was much like being dipped into boiling hot grease head-first.

Then his salvation came. The question that could break this unbearable silence materialized in his head.

"Was your trip here fine?" he asked.

"You already asked me that, Your Majesty. When I came in, I mean."

"Oh."

Some god he had unknowingly offended had to be punishing him right now. There was no other explanation for the universe to have arranged itself so that he would be alone with the woman he admired most in the world without two ideas in his head about what to say to her to rub together. 

She reached out her hand to tug her skirt a little bit lower, making Sergio's eyes flit across her skin. His mind filled with fog, and he had to carve his nails into his palms in order to regain his senses. Concentration was an uphill battle with her looking like _that_ next to him.

It would be an injustice to call such a lovely dress a devil's invention, but that was certainly what it felt like at the moment. She was beautiful, even more beautiful than in his memories, but he had to force himself to look away for the fear that he would not be able to stop if he studied her freckled shoulder even a second longer.

The silence had lasted for one whole minute now. He was painfully aware of each passing second. He clenched his eyes shut and fought against the urge to walk to the balcony and throw himself off the ledge.

She had to think he was the biggest dimwit on the planet. He could just imagine her telling every person she met from this night on that the King was a mute idiot.

There was only one way to save his face. He had to admit the truth, no matter how embarrassing it was.

"Senõra Murillo," he said, turning to her.

Raquel immediately lifted her eyes, alert. "Yes, your majesty?"

"I must confess... I am a little nervous. Actually, that is not true. I am scared shitless."

Raquel looked at him for a second, wide-eyed. He briefly wondered whether he had said just the wrong thing when she finally broke the silence, but not in any way he had expected.

She laughed. 

It was the kind of laughter that issued deep from one's chest and bubbled to the surface as gently as a forest spring.

Sergio watched, bewildered but enchanted as her eyes crinkled and her teeth flashed and she finally had to cover her mouth to try to stifle her laughter.

"Forgive me," she finally managed to say amidst her giggles. "It's just that- God, I spent this whole week scared out of my mind. I was so anxious I could hardly sleep. My mind kept replaying hundreds of versions of how this night could go and all the various ways I could embarrass myself or offend you somehow. I thought my fears had come true when you just sat there without saying a word. You did not even look at me. And then you say that. I never thought, not for a single moment, that when I was finally here that you, your of all people would be scared shitless at the prospect of meeting _me_. "

Another uncontrollable burst of giggles followed, and Sergio found himself smiling more and more widely.

"It is just so ridiculous. By god, you looked more terrified than the middle school boy who asked me on my first date," she said and laughed so hard she had to throw her head back. 

Sergio's heart was beating like a triphammer. He had never thought he'd love a sound more than her voice the first time she'd sang to him, but here he was, gulping in her laughter like a parched man after a week of wandering in the desert.

Raquel's laughter subsided bit by bit. "God, sorry. When I came here tonight it definitely wasn't my intention to laugh at the King's face."

Now Sergio was laughing too. "Oh, you have no idea how glad I am that you _are_ laughing at me. It would have killed me if you had looked at me sideways all night while remaining perfectly polite and proper. I was terrified of that happening, actually."

Raquel tilted her head, quizzical. "Really? 

"Of course I was! Señora Murillo, I have been an avid admirer of you for a decade now. You cannot even imagine how important it was for me that you like me. I almost called this whole thing off because I was so nervous you wouldn't."

"Like you? Are you aware that everyone is pretty much obligated to like the King so you don't banish them?" she teased.

"That is what I was afraid of. You not liking me for me but for- Ugh, this doesn't make any sense." Sergio ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated.

"It makes perfect sense," Raquel consoled and kicked off her heels as she adjusted her position. For some reason, that simple, comfort-seeking action made Sergio feel better than he had felt all year.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that I do like you? You are not like I thought you'd be. You are not..."

"Too kingly?" Sergio said with a note of self-deprecating amusement in his voice.

"I was going to say haughty, actually. Not that I ever thought you were haughty. Oh dear, someone should shut me up before you do banish me for real. What I mean to say that you are everything but haughty."

Sergio laughed again. "I appreciate you saying that. And please, no need to use _usted_ with me. Something dies inside me a little every time you do that since I already started using _tú_ with you.

"As you wish, your majesty," she said with a twinkle in her eye. 

"That you can drop too."

She let out soft laugh. "Alright, fine. But in exchange, you have to drop señora Murillo. Please, call me Raquel."

"It's a deal, Raquel."

He offered her his hand to seal the agreement. There was a startling, but not unpleasant sensation at the bottom of his stomach as he felt her hand in his, just like the first time. Her fingers were long and elegant and fit nicely within his. In spite of himself, he lingered a little before withdrawing his hand, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.

Raquel bit her lip, and Sergio's gaze drifted to her mouth. Mesmerized, he studied their cherry red color and the graceful bow of them. 

"What about me? Did I meet your expectations?" she asked, waking him up from his trance.

"Oh you are lovelier than I even thought you could be," Sergio said without thinking.

Raquel let out an embarrassed laugh and looked away. Sergio inwardly grimaced. He needed to reign in his admiration if he wanted to hold onto his nonchalant facade.

"I am sure you are just saying that to make me feel better about destroying your property. At least it gives me some comfort that you must think me good enough an artist not have kicked me out immediately."

Despite the resolution he made just a few seconds ago, he couldn't help but be spurred on by her words. "That is an understatement, Raquel. You are the most brilliant songwriter living on this planet. And your voice makes me wonder if you have made some sort of a contract with the devil in your adolescence. Not judging you, by the way. What you have is definitely worth a firstborn or two. Every time I hear one of your songs on the radio, I stop on my tracks. It is sorcery, pure and simple."

The way she beamed at the words made him mentally kick himself for even considering not saying what he truly thought of her.

"Oh wow, your friends weren't kidding. You truly do love my music."

Sergio was left wondering what exactly his friends had revealed to her while Raquel grew oddly thoughtful. After staring into the distance for a while she finally turned back to him, a question at her lips. 

"Can I ask, how did you discover Indarra? It cannot be because of _Mira como se va_ because you made a face when they asked you about it in the interview. There are so many artists and bands in Spain, many with larger audiences and wider appeal. Why us? Why me?"

For a moment, Sergio didn't know how to answer. The truth of the matter was that he had been bewitched ever since he had heard her voice for the first time that night 15 years ago. From that day on, he had listened to every single song and bought every album the band had put out. He played her songs to others whenever he could and knew many of them by heart. The one line he had not crossed, however, was going to see her again. He had stayed home even during the pinnacle of the band's popularity during which he could have easily snuck into a large concert and hidden in the crowd.

Doing that would have only made it harder for him to stay away. Just hearing her voice from the radio after a taxing day was enough to pose an overwhelming temptation to seek her out. He couldn't imagine how he could have been able to hold himself back if he had actually attended a show. With his title, it would have been so easy to get to talk to her before or after the performance. Too easy.

It had been better for him not to even attempt it. He knew his limits, and resisting her was not in the bounds of it.

But now she was here, and it did not matter anymore whether seeing her was a good idea or not because she _wanted_ to be here. That had to count for something. 

Why not tell her? If she did not remember him like she probably wouldn't, it wouldn't make any difference. They would just move on from there and continue this pleasant conversation. And if she did remember him...

Sergio gulped. It was something he did not dare to even hope.

Then again, he remembered the look in her eyes as if it had only happened yesterday. She had looked at him as if she had felt _it_ too. And whatever it had been between them that moment, it had affected him enough to make him think she would have a hard time forgetting it as well.

Raquel watched him with her soft brown eyes, waiting for his answer. There was something in her gaze that solidified the resolution in his head. He had to tell her. Even the faint possibility of getting her to look at him the same way again was worth it.

"Wait there." Smiling, Sergio got up from his seat. "Don't worry, I do have an answer for you. I just need to show you something," he said at Raquel's puzzled expression.

He walked to the cupboard at the other end of the room. One of the best-guarded secrets of the palace was that every room had a hidden compartment, though what it contained was nothing scandalous. It was simply a pair of spare glasses. Those were needed if Sergio ever happened to lose both of his contacts during a crucial meeting and did not want to proceed as blind as a bat. It rarely gave a good image of the country he represented.

He took out the glasses and wiped their lenses a little with the sleeve of his shirt. It was a bit of stretch, but any chance of Raquel remembering him might be improved if he put on glasses similar to the ones he had used in his disguise all those years ago.

Sergio turned around with the glasses in his hand, feeling somewhat ridiculous. 

However, instead of looking confused as he assumed she would look, Raquel's gaze suddenly sharpened. It was as if someone had called her name across a crowded room and she was startled into alertness. She glanced at the glasses and then back at him again. Her lips parted just a fraction.

Strange sort of trepidation instantaneously consumed Sergio. _Could it be?_

His blood felt steaming hot in his veins as he looked at her. If she remembered him and he saw the look in her eyes again, he would do it. He would do what he had wanted to do for 15 long years.

He began again, careful. "I don't know if you remember but-"

But before he could finish his sentence, the door opened with a clank.

In marched lady Alicia Sierra, other members of the Spanish nobility at her tail. 

"I am sorry we are late. Has the performance already began?" she asked with a sing-songy voice.

In the next moment, no other than Arturo Román revealed himself from behind her with an obnoxious smile on his face.

Sergio lowered the glasses in his hands, his good mood plunging like a brick in a pool.

Now it was certain. This night could be nothing but a punishment from gods.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel sings.
> 
> (and loses an earring)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, so sorry for taking so long. Now that my exams are over, I'll try to get back to my once-a-week posting schedule. Let's see how well I'll manage haha.
> 
> And from the bottom of my heart, thank you to Ziyal_Lia for writing lyrics to Solo un toque! Your help and enthusiasm for this fic are invaluable.
> 
> Also, it is RICARDO, not Daniel. I don't know what the showrunners have been smoking, but I am going to stick to the original name no matter their weird-ass decisions. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you thought!

Sergio took a step back as Alicia and her entourage flooded in. In retrospect, it must have looked more questionable than he would have liked because the smile on the woman's face was instantaneously snuffed out like a candle. Raquel was still sitting on the sofa, looking bewildered.

"Lady Sierra! What- what are you doing here?" he asked and immediately inwardly grimaced at what this must look like. Not a member of his security detail in sight, a beautiful woman he'd invited to the palace sitting alone on the sofa, barefoot. His guilty bounce and the catch in his voice must only amplify the impression.

"Queen Luisa invited us. She thought your guest list could some... supplement," Alicia said, narrowing her eyes a little as she looked around the empty room. "I suppose that was needed more than I thought." 

_Of course_ , it had been his mother. She might be sickly and bedbound most days, but that did not stop her from trying to make Sergio spend as little time as possible with his bastard brother and "the rest of the ragtag bunch" and entertain guests she favored instead. The people Alicia had brought with her looked almost hand-picked from the Queen Mother's address book. There was Alicia, mother's favorite bride candidate as of recent, Arturo who was, unfortunately, his closest royal relative, Martín who seemed to have been able to wrench himself away from his prize horses in order to attend, and many, many others.

If mother was any healthier, Sergio would immediately send all the party crashers on their way. But with the reality being what it was, Sergio would rather withstand some minor irritation than give her mother's weak heart any more grief.

"The others stepped out just for a bit," he explained.

There was not the slightest touch of emotion in Alicia's eyes indicating whether she believed him or not. "Well, call them back in. This is hardly a party as it is."

Raquel now stood up, smoothed down her dress, and went to Alicia with her hand outstretched and a smile on her face. "Hi, my name is-"

"Yes, you are that little singer he likes," Alicia finished for her, an impeccable smile on her face.  
Her eyes then flickered down to Raquel's red-painted toenails and back to her face, still not having taken her hand. Sergio saw Raquel look glance at her bare feet and flush a little.

After he directed a reproachful look in Alicia's direction, she finally submitted and took her hand.

"Most people usually curtsy but this is fine too," she said, giving her a limp handshake. "So _quaint_."

After this, Raquel appeared compelled to curtsy every single member of Alicia's party, making them rather uncomfortable since most of their blood was not as blue as Alicia's. Only Martín seemed pleased by the gesture. 

"You won't need to curtsy for me," said Arturo with an ever-disturbing smile on his face, stepping forward. "Might I say, señora Murillo, you look even more beautiful in person."

He grabbed her hand but before he could smack his wet lips on her knuckles, Sergio forced his way between them.

"Arturo, a word?"

It took some balls to defy the King, balls Arturo did not have, so he meekly if somewhat begrudgingly complied and stepped aside with Sergio. 

However, before Sergio could describe to Arturo what exactly he would do to his insides if he made Raquel uncomfortable in any way, the door slammed open.

"I think we have given them enough time to-," sniggered Ricardo to the others before the view unfolding in front of him zapped the words in his mouth. 

He looked like he'd just learned someone had shat in his breakfast cereal. The faces of the others did not differ a great deal. 

The expressions of Alicia's entourage mirrored the newcomers' with an additional element of scorn.

"Oh, I did not know you were invited as well," said Alicia dryly. "What a pleasure."

Silene's eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "I was not aware you had been invited _at all_."

Martín opened his mouth to retort something scathing in return but was stopped by Alicia placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No, no, Martín. Let's not stoop to their level. This is supposed to a fun night and fun night we shall have despite... These unforeseen factors."

As if by some telepathic command, Alicia and her peers turned their backs to Sergio's friends and scattered around him and Raquel as if nothing had even happened.

As Sergio looked at the people around them, each competing for a crumb of his attention, he felt the loss of the intimacy he'd shared momentarily shared with Raquel keenly. This was the opposite of how he wanted this night to go. 

Raquel was looking completely lost by his side, being swarmed by socialites in every front. Some baroness whose name Sergio could not recall was in the process of taking a selfie with Raquel, squeezing her face as close to hers humanly possible. To say Raquel was looking uncomfortable would have been an understatement. Before another person got the same idea, however, Mónica arrived at Raquel's rescue.

The woman exchanged a look with Alicia. After a moment of consideration, the latter nodded. Sergio then watched Mónica take her away to the others. Some sort of an Implicit compromise had been reached; Alicia and the others got the king, and the rest could keep the singer.

Sergio was not a particular fan of this arrangement as he was unable to follow himself, but if this was what it took to keep the peace, he had no choice but to comply. 

As one person after another engaged him in stilted small talk, he kept looking wistfully over his shoulder to where Raquel was sitting with the others, smiling at the conversation.

The way he had been looking at her must have been rather conspicuous because it soon attracted Alicia's attention.

She swiftly but effectively replaced his conversation partner and materialized in front of him before he'd even realized.

"We haven't seen each other since you went to Cuba. Would you like to tell me about it or should just read about it from the papers?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Ah, it was-" Sergio started but then a sound of at the other end of the room distracted him and his eyes were drawn there like a moth to a flame. 

She was laughing at something, her cherry-red lips peeling back to expose her teeth. There was a fluttery sensation in his stomach at the sight.

After Sergio remained silent for good half a minute, Alicia began again.

"You know what I most admire about you, Sergio?"

"Hmm?" Sergio let out, his eyes still fixed on Raquel. She was currently showing her earrings to Silene who seemed to be admiring them.

"You are nothing like your brother."

That made Sergio pause and he directed his sharp gaze at Alicia. If what was to follow was some barb about Andrés, he wouldn't allow it. He was the only one who had the right to criticize his brother. 

"Like him, you could have any woman in Spain, but you won't. That is not you. You're _a good egg,_ " She said and gave him a little poke to his ribs with her index finger.

A wave of shame rushed through him as he realized what she was insinuating.

_No, that was not why he'd invited Raquel._

He opened his mouth to defend himself only to realize it was no use. Alicia wouldn't believe his real motive anyway. He was not sure if he believed it himself, so muddled were his thoughts and feelings when it came to Raquel.

But no matter what he had unconsciously hoped or wished for, he knew one thing; He was not some sleazeball who used his position to get the woman he had set his eye on.

He did not appreciate what Alicia was saying about Andrés, but he understood where she was coming from. This was her way of grounding him lest he'd end up embarrassing them both. The last thing he wanted was to do that to Raquel.

"She is only here to sing for me," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

Alicia nodded.  
  
His eyes drifted to her out of their own accord, and he watched as she swept one chestnut curl behind her ear. Another twinge of guilt pricked at his chest as he realized the way his gaze had wandered once again.

_He was not that kind of a man._

He forced his eyes away and made sure they would stay firmly fixed on anything other than Raquel.

He better stay away from her tonight. 

* * *

The atmosphere in the room was as heavy as lead, making Raquel both nervous and deeply curious at the same time. 

There was no doubt about it. She had gotten herself amidst some bizarre conflict between two drastically different factions. She predicted that only one or two nasty words thrown into either direction would be enough to escalate the situation to a minor civil war.

The two groups were eyeing each other warily from their positions, like a pack of wild animals measuring up the rival gang. The most noticeable tension was between the man Lady Sierra had called Martín and Andrés, the king's brother. They did not seem to be able to make up their minds about whether they wanted to avoid looking at each other at all cost or do the very opposite.

When Alicia's entourage was not glaring daggers at them, they were bustling around Sergio like a swarm of hungry locusts. Looking at him, she wondered what little mutual benefit these interactions yielded. The King did not look like he was enjoying himself, and the people talking to him looked far from relaxed too. Their every movement was wooden as if they were performing rather than talking to an old friend. Sergio himself was as stiff as a plank, his face completely emotionless.

If she hadn't gotten to spend a good while alone with him getting to know him a little, she would have just assumed this was what the King was like - serious and stand-offish. But she knew better now. She knew he could be a completely different man in other circumstances. With her, he had been sweet, funny, and surprisingly charming.

She was a little sad that man had gone away, perhaps never to return. He had barely looked in her direction this past hour. Once when their eyes had met by chance and she had tried smiling at him, he had simply nodded at her and looked away immediately. It dampened her mood considerably.

She felt rather silly by being so disappointed. She shouldn't have expected anything more, and just the fact that she had even spoken to him alone was a miracle in itself.

In any case, she had a story to tell Paula and Marivi. To Paula, she would tell what the palace and the King had been like, and to her mother, she would tell him how she'd her borderline flirtatious her interaction with the sovereign had been.

Her cheeks felt a little warm as she remembered the way he had looked at her. Yes, he'd definitely found her attractively and acted accordingly.

It could be that he was just being friendly and that there was no meaning behind his gaze or his words. It wouldn't be the first time she was wrong about this sort of stuff. But regardless of what it had been, it had been nice. It had been far too long since the last time she'd felt this beautiful.

She couldn't lie, it was kind of an honor that this was all coming from a man who must have met countless of elegant women in his life. He was also remarkably good-looking.

That notion made another man return to her mind, the man who had occupied her thoughts for the past 15 years - and who happened to bear a striking resemblance to the King.

When Sergio had brought out the glasses, she had almost thought…

She shook her head. No. The whole idea was ridiculous.

Even if the King had wanted to see _her_ out of all the artists in Spain that night 15 years ago, he couldn't have done that without armed protection officers all around him. And that would have been hard not notice.

Moreover, the venue would have had to be secured beforehand for his visit and she would have been notified a member of royalty was in her audience that night. Men like him did not simply show up in dingy places like that unannounced no matter how much the thought tickled her vanity.

No, it simply couldn't be. It had been some other man with glasses who maybe hadn't even looked like the King that much. The lighting had been dim after all, and it had been 15 years. If she happened to bump into the real man one day, she would probably not even recognize him.

Mónica started showing her pictures of her baby boy which helped her to take her mind off the matter. She told her about her own mishaps with Paula when she had been that age and managed to make all of them chuckle with one particular story that involved her mother's jigsaw puzzle and a one-year-old's tendency to put everything in sight into her mouth.

She was lucky she had these people. Otherwise, she would feel completely out of her depth here.

"Could you get us some more churros, cariño?" Mónica asked her husband after she had run out of pictures of her son's birthday party.

"Better not send him," Agáta commented, observing the way Ricardo was staring at the King's cousin and pursing his fingers into a fist.

"I can go," Raquel said and stood up, not hearing any objections. She was the least likely of this group to get into a fistfight if she crossed over to the other side in pursuit of churros, and they all knew it.

"How many do you want me to-?"

"Just steal the whole plate," Silene whispered. "They don't deserve it."

Raquel nodded with a grin.

She saw that the plate of churros set on a vacant table. Stealthily taking with her would not be any trouble at all.

However, the moment she walked over to the table and crouched down to take the plate, none other than Lady Sierra sat on the sofa next to it and took one churro between her impeccably manicured fingers.

Raquel froze.

She couldn't just drop the plate and leave. That would only expose her as the dirty little churro thief she was. In order not to embarrass herself, she had to pretend she was here for another reason.

Without thinking it through, she sat next to Alicia on the sofa and instantly regretted her decision.

She was now trapped there, unable to move just because she did not want to be rude.

Alicia acknowledged her with a small smile before digging up her phone from her purse and starting to type on it. She seemed in no way interested in interacting with her. Now, this was even more awkward.

Raquel decided she would sit her for a few moments more, eating a couple of churros before making her less-than-graceful exit. That could not come soon enough. Just sitting here amidst the aristocracy she felt as conspicuous as a water buffalo amidst a flock of swans.

Her eyes returned to Lady Sierra who was still texting someone. At least this gave her an opportunity to study King Sergio's rumored girlfriend.

Up close, she looked somehow just as she had expected. Big eyes, long graceful nose, a stylish haircut, and a touch of sophisticated make-up. Her outfit looked more expensive than her house put together and Raquel had a suspicion the nail extensions currently tapping on her phone were not your usual neighborhood salon variety either.

But it was not just her looks that gave the impression of a peeress. There was also something in her air that made her think of the world 'regal'. 

_It's a good choice from Sergio. She would make a fine queen_ , she found herself thinking. 

Perhaps she would get to hear about their engagement later when this night was only a fuzzy memory.

Her long nails continued to ceaselessly dance on her phone screen. The motion of it was hypnotic.

Clickety-clack they went. Clickety-clack over and over again in an almost furious pace. She wondered whether she was debating heatedly with someone or if this was just her normal speed of typing.

All of a sudden her head snapped up, startling Raquel out of her wits. She had stopped typing. Her dark eyes darted to her like a hawk zeroing in on its target.

"So, señora Murillo. Do you have someone?"

"Uh… I am actually divorced."

She did not look fazed and surprised at all, making Raquel wonder whether she had just googled her on her phone.

"I am sorry to hear that. Was it recent?"

"A year ago."

Once again, she did not even blink.

"You poor thing," Lady Sierra said, pursing her lips. "But no worries, a pretty thing like you will find a new husband in no time at all."

"Thanks," Raquel said hesitantly, now knowing how else to answer. "How about you, are you-"

"I am a widow."

The rest of the words died on Raquel's tongue.

"Oh, I am so sorry-"

Lady Sierra made a dismissive hand gesture.

"No need to look at me like that, it happened quite some time ago," she said with a tone of voice that better matched the topic of weather than her husband's demise. "Besides, I've got things going for me."

With that, she nodded towards Sergio.

Raquel wondered whether she could ask her what the King was like as a boyfriend, but before she could even form the question on her lips, Lady Sierra launched into a tirade.

"We are not actually in a relationship yet, but we soon will be. He needs me, you see. I am actually one of the few women in Spain that can actually date the guy. I have the right name, right ancestors the right education - not too low, not so high that I would have to actually give up career if he picks me. I am also not too old to pop out an heir or two for him or too young to make him look like a cradle-robber. The problem with women my age, however, is that most of them are already married or divorced and if they haven't been married by this point, people would ask: what is wrong with her? why hasn't she found a husband yet? - a question they curiously never ask about men, by the way."

This was the only point where Lady Sierra made eye contact with her during this bewildering rant. Raquel only had time to nod before she turned her head and continued.

"Luckily, I happen to be widowed," she said, rolling her eyes. "If I had been divorced, that wouldn't do. The King of Spain cannot marry a divorced woman. I am pretty sure the Catholic church wouldn't allow it, anyway. But a widow - that is perfect. The bachelor king finds love with a gently-used duchess. Such a nice little narrative. So as you can see, In a way, all my life has been preparation for this," she finished, looking into the distance with an oddly hollow look in her eyes.

As Raquel racked through her brain for anything she could possibly say to that, Lady Sierra's expression morphed into something completely different. She turned to her with an almost frighteningly sugary smile.

"So just do me a favor and don't complicate this matter any further for him, okay?"

Raquel furrowed her brow, confused. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Lady Sierra just looked at her poignantly, her smile gaining a sharp edge.

"Weren't you supposed to be singing here, anyway?" she asked coolly. "So when I can hear some music?"

"Oh, I suppose I could-"

"Yes!" agreed a woman passing by. "I can't wait to hear _Mira como se va_!"

"Is she going to sing now?" echoed the others around her.

"Can we hear _Mira como se va_?"

"If you're taking requests…"

"Sing _Mira Como se va_! Sing _Mira como se va_!"

People suddenly surrounded her, expressing various degrees of enthusiasm for hearing her hit song. Several times, Raquel tried to answer one person only for her attention to be yanked elsewhere the very next second. She was starting to feel overwhelmed, clutching her hands against the cushions of the sofa. Lady Sierra did not rush to her help, choosing to gnaw at her churro instead.

Raquel closed her eyes for a moment in order to gather her wits. Just then, the commotion around her died down. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the King himself standing in front of her.

"You're here as my guest tonight," he said softly. "You're under no obligation to sing tonight if you don't want to-"

"I'd love to," she said earnestly. 

That earned her a couple of cheers and whoops.

Sergio gave some sort of a signal to his staff who rushed to set up the stage before flashing her a small smile. He then offered her his hand.

She stared at it for a moment at first, not knowing what to do with it before she finally realized he was trying to help her up. She grasped his hand and he drew her on her feet.

As gallantly as a knight would save his protegee from a hostile mob, he took her away from the crowd and saw her all the way to the stage, his hand hovering near the small of her back in gentle guidance the entire time. This had to be the way he had been raised to treat a lady, but the gesture still brought a ripple of warmth into her chest. 

This was the polar opposite of what she was used to, after all.

Before he could grasp her hand again to help her on the stage, she turned to him with a playful smile flickering on her lips.

"Any requests from his Majesty?"

She hoped referring to him with his title would remind of the little moment they had shared and that he would teasingly call her señora Murillo in return.

No such luck.

His features stiffened a little, his face morphing back into his rigid but polite mask. He parted his lips, as if he wanted to say something but quickly closed them again.

"Anything but _Mira como se va_ ," he said and smiled weakly.

Raquel gave a little laugh at that but before she could quip something in return, he was gone.

She frowned. Yet another brush-off. If this kept on happening, she would have to start wondering if she had done something wrong.

She waited until the staff had made sure everything was up and running with the sound system before she walked up to the microphone. As if by an unconscious summon, the lights around her dimmed the second she grabbed the device.

"Oh, thank you," and made a grateful gesture for whoever was in control of the lights before turning to her audience. "Hello everyone, I am Raquel Murillo. And today, I think I will start with…"

The anticipation of the audience was almost palpable. She inwardly grimaces as she realized what they all expected.

"… _Mira como se va."_

The room burst into cheers and applause. 

Raquel let out a deep sigh.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the audience's interest in her waned the second the last note of _Mira como se va_ had faded away and sounds of chatter started to soon emerge in the room. But she did not mind. The pressure of the countless pairs of aristocratic eyes on her was now lifted. She could truly relax and sing what she wanted to people who actually wanted to listen to her - that is, The Scandalous Seven who had all gathered in front of the stage.

With a smile on her face, she listened to their requests and laughed when they could not reach an agreement. What she ended up doing was singing everyone's favorite one by one, the order determined by the volume and enthusiasm of the requester (Agatá won the first place by a wide margin.)

After _Calláte_ came _Tuyo, tuyo_ , and after that _Contigo_. The whole thing was casual in the best way. She did not have to take herself too seriously, just sing from her heart and have fun, just like when she first started her musical career.

In fact, this was one of the best gigs she'd ever had. She would be hard-pressed to find fans who knew the lyrics to her songs this religiously and who never ran out of song suggestions.

If there was one thing that left her a little discouraged, it was the king. He had invited her here himself, but he seemed to do everything but stop and listen to her. Most of the time he was talking to someone and when he was not, he left the room for one reason or another.

She probably shouldn't have expected anything more. He was a busy man. However, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She would have wanted to catch at least one positive reaction from him so that she could bask the rest of her life in the warm knowledge that the king of Spain had listened to her sing, if only for one short moment.

But she supposed this was as amazing of an experience as any. If she had never scored an invitation here, she would never have met these lovely people whistling and clapping at her like their life depended on it.

At the end of her sixth song, she took a little break and sat on the edge of the stage, opening a water bottle.

"So who wants the next one?" she asked breathlessly as soon as she had gulped down half of the bottle.

"I have a suggestion-"

"You already went, Ricardo," admonished Mónica. "Besides, you should rest a little, Raquel. We have all night."

"Maybe later. Right now I am on a roll," Raquel said with a grin, wiping a little sweat off her brow.

"How about _Solo un toque_? I have always liked that song," said Aníbal shyly.

The rest of them murmured in agreement.

"That's a good choice," Raquel admitted. The song was actually one of her personal favorites and it had been a long time since she'd last gotten to perform it.

"It is a slower one too, so you don't have to jump around quite so much. But promise me you'll rest longer after this one," said Mónica, still all concern.

"Alright, alright," Raquel chuckled. "Only one song more."

She downed the rest of her water and climbed back up on the stage. As expected, most of the people in the room hardly even registered her as she announced the name of the next song. Interestingly enough, however, she saw the King cast a look in her direction for the first time since she started singing.

That victory was short-lived. He appeared to excuse himself only a beat later and started walking towards the door.

Once again, she suppressed her disappointment and brought a smile on her face for her audience. Next, she closed her eyes as she always did at the beginning of this song. It helped her to bring herself to its world of heartache and yearning.

"Entró en su vida con una mirada, el timbre de su voz silenció los demás…"

_With a single look, she entered his life. Her voice silenced everything else…_

After finishing the first verse with _In her presence, he loses all sense_ she opened her eyes again and studied her audience. Aníbal was leaning his face against his palm, an absorbed look on his face. Raquel smiled, gladdened by the boy's love for the song.

But before she could start the chorus, her breath hitched at the sight in the corner of her eye.

Sergio stood frozen in the doorway, staring at her.

The surprise of seeing him made her falter a little and she was a little late before she started singing again. She hummed through the first part of the chorus before her voice caught up with the music and softened. "Cada noche sueña con ella…"

_Every night he dreams of her…_

At first Raquel had looked at him curiously while she had sung, wondering what had made him stay, but soon she found herself unable to wrench her eyes away even if she wanted to. There was something in his gaze that pulled at her, as powerful and unyielding as gravity. The sensation was so strong it felt wrong to look even an inch away. Almost dishonest in a way, so intense was the look in his eyes.

It was as if this song belonged to _him_.

"Y toca pero no es suficiente, y regresa a casa, deseando haber hecho más…,"she sang and saw him move. He took a step and then another closer to her, only to halt again with a fair amount of distance still between them. As if too afraid to intrude any further.

_And he touches, but it isn't enough, and he goes home, wishing he'd done more…_

She smiled at him encouragingly, but what she saw next made the smile vanish from her face in less than one heartbeat.

It was barely discernible, and it was probable that no one in the world but she couldn't have detected it. His fingers were moving, performing some sort of an unconscious, ghost of a motion. Almost as if he was caressing some imaginary fabric…

And then she remembered.

The music went on, but her lips did not move. She stood there, petrified, the microphone pursed between her clammy hands.

In her mind played a memory where a man had slid his fingers along the fabric of her dress when she'd sung these very words 15 years ago.

She stared at him, and he stared at her back.

His eyes were full of breathtaking reverence and longing.

That same look she had only seen once before.

Suddenly, her throat was drier than sandpaper. She couldn't breathe.

_No, no, no._

_No._

_This couldn't be happening._

_Out of all the people in the world, not him._

He was still looking at her and the unspoken, familiar emotion in his gaze made her feel dizzy. She wrenched her eyes away, unable to bear it any longer.

She turned to look to her audience, but could only see blurry shapes in front of her. What was worse,   
he could feel his suffocating gaze follow her.

Feeling a desperate need to flee, she took one step back. 

In doing so, her heel wrapped around the cord behind her.

And just like that, she was lying on her side on the floor, having fallen off the stage with an ugly thump. 

Yet somehow, the utter mortification she felt as panicked people hurriedly surrounded her was the least of her worries.

* * *

After declaring that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts for a while, Raquel had been left sitting on armchair in the far back of the room, an ibuprofen-spiked glass of water in one hand, her earring in the other (to add to her humiliation, the treacherous piece of jewelry had gotten stuck in the hair of the first person who had bent down to help her), and some stranger's jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Luckily, she did not have to suffer too many pitying looks thrown in her direction. She had managed to text her driver without anyone noticing.

He would be here in 20 minutes.

When the others had asked, she'd simply explained that she'd suddenly felt faint. That had sent Mónica into a fit of regret that she'd allowed her to go back to the stage without properly resting and Raquel felt guilty for causing her all that worry, but there was nothing in the world that could have made her admit the real reason for her sudden affliction.

Luckily, Sergio had not come to fuss over her. She wouldn't have been able to look him into the eye if he had. Not after what she'd just discovered.

15 years. 15 she had been dreaming about a man that was completely, utterly out of her league. In another stratosphere, even.

Just the thought made another wave of embarrassment rush through her.

Perhaps decades from now this would only be a funny story. Something to tell to grandkids on rainy days: the time grandma Raquel had imagined she had fancied the King just because he had looked at her funnily at a gig once. They would laugh their asses off. 

It would be either that story or the one where her earring had cost some heiress a good chunk of hair. She was still getting nasty looks from the woman.

But right now, none of tonight was very funny. She could only pray she managed to get out of here with as little eye contact with anyone as possible. She was afraid people could see right through her with just one look.

When 20 minutes had finally passed, Raquel glanced the clock twice more to make sure before clutching the earring into her fist and leaping to her feet. She made her way to where Sergio's friends were clustered and offered them her discreet goodbyes. They were sad to see her go and tried to convince her to stay a few hours more, but she was determined. It was already late and she would have to go home to her daughter. Of course, Paula was with Alberto at this time but they didn't know that. This white lie was needed to have as swift of an escape as possible.

Lady Sierra's aristocratic circle Raquel did not bother to address before leaving. Raquel wouldn't be surprised if most of them thought she already had.

However, there was absolutely one person she did have to bid farewell to despite the sheer notion striking terror in her heart. The King himself.

Fortunately, he was currently engaged in a conversation with someone. Perhaps if she didn't make any show of it, he would let her go with only a couple of courteous words before resuming his discussion. That was the best she could hope for.

She sailed to him as quietly as possible, like a moth landing on a soft cushion. Finally, she was standing in front of his broad-shouldered back.

"Your Majesty," she said during the first appropriate lull in the conversation, and both of the men turned to look at her. "I wanted to thank you one more time for giving me this wonderful opportunity before I take my leave. It was a joy to perform to you."

She then made a deep and graceful curtsy, not missing a single beat. She thanked the universe with all her heart for letting this one go without a hitch.

Instead of politely nodding at her and sending her off with a half-hearted expression of gratitude and praise of her talent like she had hoped, Sergio turned to her with his whole body, entirely snubbing his conversation partner.

"You are leaving," he said, his words sounding more like a confused question than a statement.

"I am. My driver is waiting outside."

"Oh, do not leave us just yet. The night has barely begun," said the man Sergio had been talking to so half-heartedly Raquel suspected that even that half-eaten, burnt churro left on the bottom of the plate could have drawn more passion out of him.

"Stay," Sergio said with a low voice, his gaze so breathtakingly and inexplicably earnest that Raquel might just have been persuaded if her resolve had been any weaker.

But no, she had to leave.

The next moment, she saw her salvation approaching. Lady Sierra had caught the sight of them talking and was now sailing over to them with a pinched expression. She had never been happier about her presence at this party than now.

"I- I am afraid I must go," she said quickly just when Lady Sierra reached them.

She used the brief moment he was distracted by the other woman to her advantage and quickly side-stepped amongst the other guests. 

She had said goodbye to the King. With that done, it was perfectly polite to escape. 

Raquel stepped through the doors, closed them quietly behind her, and began then skittering down the stairs with the speed of a terrified gazelle. The only sound that echoed in the vast hall was the sound of her heels clicking against the marble. 

Just before she reached the landing marking the halfway point, she heard a voice from behind her.

"Raquel, wait."

The voice belonged to the very man she was fleeing from. After stalling only a half a second in surprise, she sped up again, now leaping down two steps at a time. 

Unfortunately, she soon miscalculated and stepped on a stair that wasn't there. She had to grab the railing to prevent herself from stumbling, but that gave him just enough time to catch up with her.

"Raquel," he breathed out, his arm grabbing hers in order to steady her. His touch burned her like a branding iron, making breath catch in her throat.

He then gently turned her so that she was facing her.

Her head swam. _What was he doing? Why couldn't he just let her go?_

"Raquel," he began. His hands were still holdings hers, his eyes filled with emotion she could not describe. It looked almost as if he was pained and hopeful at the same time.

It was strange and confusing, and she needed to get out of here because she was not equipped to handle any of this. _Why, why has he here?_

She shook her head slowly, avoiding his eyes. "You shouldn't be here, everyone up there is waiting for you," she said weakly.

Before she could say one word more, he breathed out a heartstopping string of words.

"15th of October, 2003."

_The night of the show._

Raquel's heart started slamming furiously against her ribcage. _He remembered. He remembered. he remembered._

"You recognized me, didn't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She wanted to deny it, but nothing she could come up with sounded convincing. So she looked away, making sure that at least her eyes wouldn't betray her.

But that evasive gesture alone seemed to be answer enough for him. His grip of her hands tightened.

"Not a single day has passed since that night when I haven't thought about you, Raquel."

And just like that, her world flipped upside down.

She slowly turned to look at him if only to discern whether he'd told her the truth or not because something so astonishing couldn't possibly be true.

She was met with a look from him that in no world should be directed at _her_ , and her heart unraveled in her chest.

_No, she couldn't do this._

_This was too huge._

She pulled herself away from him.

_She couldn't, she couldn't. He was the King, and it was a decade and a half ago and-_

_She just couldn't._

Without sparing him one more look, she turned her back to him and fled.

* * *

Only on the way home, she realized that her earring was no longer with her. She must have dropped it in the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An earring is returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to express how delighted and grateful I am for all the comments and messages you have left me about this fic! Every single comment fills my heart with joy and makes me so excited to keep writing this fic. I am sorry I haven't had time to reply to many comments, but I need you to know how much I appreciate every kind word. I will get to them very soon though, so don't you worry if you have asked a question I haven't answered yet!
> 
> I'm sending you all kisses and hugs xxx

When Raquel finally got home after the most agonizing car ride of her life, she walked straight past her mother (who had waited up on her despite her orders not to) and into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. Not out of malice, she would simply not be able to answer her mother's - or anyone's - questions. She could hardly comprehend herself what had just happened.

At first, she did not even have the presence of mind to take off her heels. She simply sat on the edge of the bed, gripping her sheets with white-knuckled hands, her mind still shrouded in fog.

_Not a single day has passed since that night when I haven't thought about you, Raquel._

Once again, just the memory of those words made her heart trash in her chest like a jackhammer. 

This was definitely not how she'd expected this night to go. Even her worst nightmares where she'd ended up barfing over some royal artifact or accidentally setting something in fire seemed more plausible than this. Something like this simply did not happen outside the most eyeroll-inducing movies and books.

Maybe this was all a dream. That would certainly make more sense than the King of Spain ceaselessly thinking about _her._ Yes, if she went to bed now she would surely wake up in a world where her performance was still ahead and this was all some sort of a fever dream brought forth by excessive stress. Or maybe those churros had been laced with something. She would know in the morning.

She finally kicked off her heels and crawled under the covers of the bed, really, desperately needing this all to be just a figment of her imagination.

* * *

It wasn't.

For a few blissful, sleepy seconds after she woke up, it was just another ordinary day. 

Then she felt her strapless bra digging into her back, and that illusion was shattered. At once, she remembered she was wearing this bra and this dress and why she had gone to bed still wearing it, and her whole body started pricking.

This was truly one of the worst things that could have happened to her right now. These perplexing emotions were the last thing she needed in the middle of a custody battle and a tumultuous career change.

At least those hardships were already a fixture in her life. She knew how to navigate in those fields but what the King had said… that was something wholly unimaginable.

 _Alright, that was all real_ , she said to herself as she clambered out of the bed. _But there is no need for you to do anything about it._

So she'd experienced a weird moment with King Sergio II of Spain. _What about it?_ It was not as if her life was now irrevocably changed just because he'd imagined having felt something for her 15 years ago. It was simply a silly, foolhardy infatuation-at-first-sight he'd experienced and he probably hadn't even known what he was talking about after all that champagne last night. And in regards to her own feelings about him or that mystery man of her dreams… well, they were nothing she couldn't get over now that she knew how misguided they were.

If she had known who he was, she would have stifled it all immediately. She was not the kind of woman who got lovestruck by royalty. She wasn't. Anything of that like would be simply delusional and mortifying.

Delusional because even if the King had told her the truth and had not been able to stop thinking about her, she would be out of her mind to entertain that declaration. She was, perhaps, the very last person in the world he should be looking at, and she was not about to fool herself by thinking any otherwise. If she even believed him to have been in his right mind as he'd said it, that was. 

…And mortifying because if Lady Sierra or any of the people present got even the whiff of what had passed between them, she had better just to pack up her packs and flee the whole country. They could claim that she had purposefully thrown herself on his way all those years ago and somehow maneuvered to arrange last night too. Simply the thought of them all thinking that made her want to crawl out of her own skin.

All around, proceeding on this path was an extremely bad idea. She had been wise to leave when she'd had.

Now she would just have to forget all about it and move on her with all life as if nothing had happened. For her own good.

Easier said than done. After she'd slowly regained her faculties, she started undressing. All the while she thought about him. When she hung up her dress, she thought about the way he had looked at her. As she stepped into the shower, she thought about their conversations. As she rinsed her hair and lathered herself with soap, he thought about his hand on hers. 

She shivered at the recollection, hugging herself despite the warmth of the water pouring over her. She was faintly aware that it was probably not wise to think about him while naked. That would only lead to the remembrance of all the other times she'd unwittingly thought about him while naked throughout the years.

Embarrassment rocketed through her as she considered it. She had dreamed about him while touching herself for as long as she could remember. It would be a real struggle to stop now, but she had to, of course. Just as he had to stop if…

_...He had been doing the same._

The thought made her flush and swallow. Suddenly, she couldn't get out of the shower fast enough. She hurried to dry herself and put on some clothes as if afraid her skin would catch fire if she stayed there one second longer. 

* * *

After the shower, she succeeded in distracting herself by answering her emails and calling her lawyer about an upcoming court date. She also texted her sister about the time she would be coming to pick up Paula and spent the rest of the morning being bombarded with texts from Alberto who had taken great offense from her consulting Laura instead of him. The man did not seem to understand that the restraining order meant that she'd be just as unwilling to talk to him as spend time in the same room as him.

The whole exchange managed to heat up her blood to the level where there was no space for other thoughts beyond the anger and frustration she felt toward Alberto. That changed, however, when she went downstairs to eat and heard the voice of a news anchor.

"…with more than 1,000 properties affected. King Sergio II visited the residents and businesses affected the floods this morning in Andalusia. After meeting with the mayor, the King has asked his aides to…

Raquel found herself walking toward the voice before she could stop herself. Her mother was knitting in the armchair while absent-mindedly listening to the news. She only lifted her head when she saw Raquel walk into the room and freeze in front of the TV screen, her hand clutched over her heart.

…The King later thanked emergency services personnel at the town's municipal building. The visit comes as prime minister Tamayo came under fire for not visiting flood-hit areas last month…

The broadcast showed Sergio talking to a woman who was seemingly indicating how high the water had risen with her hands. He looked tired but fully attentive. He must have flown there first thing in the morning after hearing about the floods despite the long night he'd had.

 _He is a good man like that_ , Raquel found herself thinking. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat. So much much for not thinking about him. There would be no escaping a man like him, not even in her own home.

It was not fair.

She longed after the time before she'd met him when he had only been on the periphery of her everyday life. That was where he was supposed to be, only on TV or in newspapers, out of reach and out of her mind. Not haunting her every waking moment like this.

"What is it, mi cielo?" Marivi asked, looking at Raquel with some concern. She then glanced at what Raquel was so glued to watching on the screen, and a smile spread on her face.

"Oh, it is that king of yours."

 _No. Precisely not._ Her face twisted.

Mariví put down her needlework. "Raquel, is something wrong? You look pale."

She shook her head weakly and unconvincingly.

Her mother frowned. "Did something happen last night?"

Raquel shook her head again, this time forcing a smile on her face. "No, not all. It is just funny seeing him on TV after getting to meet him."

That of course brought forth an onslaught of questions from her mother, and Raquel had no choice but to satisfy her curiosity about the night in question.

She placed most emphasis on her embarrassing stumble so that she'd have as something to entertain her with and was as vague as possible about the other events of the night. Of Sergio's interactions with her she did not say one word, only describing him as nice and polite but rather serious. 

Mariví knew about the mysterious man that had caught her fancy 15 years ago, but Raquel was not planning on disclosing his real identity to her. That secret she would take her to her grave.

In the end, there was only one plot hole left in her tale which she realized when Mariví asked what had happened to her earring.

She could not tell her that it must have dropped while she was fleeing the palace so she simply shrugged.

"Shouldn't you try to contact the palace somehow and see if they find it?" Mariví suggested.

"It is only a cheap silver earring. They probably chuck such things into the trash," Raquel joked. "I'll probably not get it back, but it's okay. It was not my favorite pair anyway."

In reality, she rather loved that earring but there was no way she would return to the palace and potentially face the King just to get it back.

* * *

Later on while she was waiting for Paula to emerge out of her sister's apartment in her car, she checked her social media apps and saw that she had been tagged in multiple pictures by several members of the Spanish nobility. The King did not feature in any picture taken of her, but Prieto ought to be pleased in any case. This was probably just the publicity he had been aiming for her. Many video snippets and pictures of her performance had been liked thousands of times and she saw that some tabloids had already picked up the story. 

That would mean she would have to bear rumors about whose dick she must have been sucking to be invited there for a few weeks. She let out a sigh.

She had also received multiple friend requests, mainly from the scandalous seven. She smiled as she saw their names in their notifications, but that smile soon faded. She turned off her phone and put it aside.

It was probably better if she kept her distance. After all, these were Sergio's closest friends. Consorting with them would inevitably lead to proximity with him as well, and she did not want him (or Alicia, or anyone in those circles, really) to think that she was going out of her way to get close to him.

It was a shame because she had really liked those people. She could have done with some new friends.

Soon, she saw Paula and Laura at the door and rose from her car to meet them. The girl ran to her and Raquel captured her in her arms at once, squeezing her so hard against her chest the girl started squealing and laughing.

"I missed you very much," she said and covered her head in kisses. 

"Run off to the car, Paulita. Aunt Laura needs to have a word with your mama," said Laura with a sugary smile after having watched this interaction for a moment.

"Oh okay," the girl answered and swung her backpack over her shoulder. Raquel could have sworn it was half bigger when she'd helped her pack it.

 _Alberto must have bought her a pile of new toys once again_ , Raquel thought wearily as she watched her skip off. 

The second Paula had climbed into the car Laura's smile fell off and her expression turned to resemble the one of sour milk. 

Raquel began tentatively. "So did everything go well-?“

"You have some nerve," interrupted Laura. "There you are, acting all high and mighty and refusing to talk to Alberto as if he is some monster while he is being twice the parent you will ever be. He is actually holding onto his job by claw and teeth in midst of your ridiculous accusations just that he can keep providing for me and Paula and buying her everything she could possibly need. Meanwhile, you spend your nights partying with the royal family in skimpy clothes without as much as half a thought to your daughter. So don't even bother with your wounded gazelle act because we can see right through you. And hopefully, the judge will too."

With that said, she indignantly turned her back to her and marched back inside. Raquel could see a man waiting by the window for her.

Raquel deflated like a balloon who had been violently pierced by a nail. Not only because just seeing Alberto filled her with dread and nausea, but because she knew he was not going make this easy. Everything she could possibly do would be used as ammunition against her. Everything was proof of how bad of a mother she was and she was starting to believe it.

She would absolutely have to lie low for a while if only to improve her chances of keeping Paula even a little bit.

* * *

Despite the high likelihood that Alberto and her sister had badmouthed her appearance at the Zaragoza palace to Paula, the girl was all excitement and curiosity. Questions streamed out of her non-stop all the way to their home door and continued well after her bedtime routine had started. She wanted to know everything from what kind of a fancy car had taken her there to how many armor-clad guards were present and whether the king was wearing a crown or not.

As much as it was endearing, Raquel felt herself grow wearier and wearier at the onset of them. It was not easy nor comfortable to force the memories of that night back to surface to answer her questions after spending most of the day trying to suppress them. 

"Did the King like your songs?" the girl at the table as Raquel prepared her a bedtime snack.

The memory of the look in King's eyes as he'd watched her sing slashed through her like a dagger, and for a moment, it was hard to breathe.

She tried not to let Paula see how affected she was and forced a smile on her face. "Yes, probably."

The girl looked at her with a quizzical frown.

"Why do you look so sad, mama?"

"I am not sad. I am so happy you are here," Raquel said and turned around to plant a light kiss on her forehead.

"That is a lie. You have that look on your face you have when a dog gets hurt in a movie."

Raquel sighed. Her little girl was sometimes too insightful for her own good.

"Alright, truthfully I am a little sad. But that is okay. Sometimes adults are just a little sad."

Paula was visibly troubled by this news. 

"If you want, I could sleep in your bed like you sleep in my bed with me when I am feeling sad," she suggested softly. 

Raquel had to fight against tears from springing into her eyes. She did not know what she had done to deserve such a precious daughter. 

"I would very much like that."

A little while later, Raquel tucked Paula into her bed and settled next to her. After a week apart, she would enjoy nothing more than seeing her daughter peacefully asleep next to her. It almost gave off the illusion that it was just the two of them, and that she was in control of their future.

But Paula was not ready to fall asleep quite yet. She kept peeking at her under her eyelids before she finally blinked her eyes completely open and propped herself up. 

"Can I ask you one more question?"

Raquel smiled softly at her daughter. "Of course, mi cielo."

Paula then grinned in a mischievous manner as if she was about to ask her something very naughty. 

"Was the King handsome?"

A little laugh escaped Raquel. Was that what the girl had been holding in all evening? 

"Yes, he was very handsome. Tell you what, he was even more handsome than in all the magazines," she said with agrin.

Paula's eyes were wide and wondering. "Really?"

"Really. But what is more, he was also kind and thoughtful."

"Was he very _gallant_?"

Raquel smiled. Paula had just learned that word from some Princess cartoon and liked to use it about all men she found particularly nice. 

"Yes, he was very gallant."

"Did he fall in love with you at first sight?" she then asked with a sing-songy voice and burst into giggles 

"Paulita, you have been watching too many Disney movies lately," Raquel sputtered after a moment, flustered. "I think it is time for us to go to sleep. You have school tomorrow morning."

Paula groaned a reluctant assent and dove under the covers. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

By her side, Raquel lay wide awake, her thoughts not permitting her to fall under. 

* * *

The next morning, Raquel only left the bed to take Paula to school. The rest of the day she spent evading Prieto's phone calls. The man had been very pleased with the traction the social media posts made at the event were gaining and wanted her to come to the studio to discuss how to best take advantage of this spotlight. Dreading the sole notion of having to talk to _him_ about that night, Raquel announced she was sick and unable to come. That didn't stop Prieto from trying to contact her anyway, texting her ideas about her new brand as a "royal darling" every few minutes.

In the end, she ended up turning her phone completely off and dedicated her day to watching reruns of MasterChef in her pajamas.

She only started out of her cooking show-induced trance when she heard the sound of the garbage truck. She leaped out of the bed and ran to the window where she could see the vehicle pulling out of their driveaway. She got a bad feeling in her gut.

"Mama! Did you remember to put the garbage bags in front of the house?" she yelled through the wall.

When she did not answer immediately, Raquel swung the door open and raised her voice. "Mama, did you-"

"I am not sure but Raquel, could you pop by the kitchen real quick?"

"I can't believe you forgot again," she groaned. _What was with her mother's memory recently?_

"We can talk about that later, cariño, but right now I need you to come to the kitchen-"

"Not before I have sorted this out," she huffed out, already stomping and clattering down the stairs. 

She rushed down the corridor to the front door, holding her breasts in her hands. "I swear, this is the last time I am running after that fucking garbage truck without a bra on," she yelled as she went. "Those bastards better get a good look because I am not doing this again, you hear me?"

The next time Mariví called out for her, her voice was desperate.

"Raquel, please, won't you at least look into the kitchen?"

She sighed and made a lightning-fast detour. She did not have much time to lose if she wanted to remain on their garbage collector's good side - a position that was in jeopardy more often not. So she stormed into the kitchen.

"What is so damn important that I can't just-"

The rest of the words on her tongue died as she saw _him_.

There he was, sitting on her kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him. The King of Spain himself, wearing an impeccable suit without a single hair on his head out of place. Mariví was sitting opposite of him with a rather hysterical looking smile on her face.

At once, Raquel was robbed of her ability to move a single muscle and she simply stood there, staring at him. He was looking back at her with wide, rapidly blinking eyes. 

Only then it dawned on her that she was only wearing a ratty top and sleeping shorts without a lick of makeup on her face. Worst of all, she was still clutching at her breasts.

The only comfort that her presentation of herself just now could give her was the fact that at least he had not seen her nipples through the threadbare material of her top. Because they were blocked by her hands. _Fuck_. Somewhere in the center of Madrid Prieto had to be having an aneurysm.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said and turned on her heel. She quickly scuttled back to the corridor and closed the door behind her.

She slammed herself against the wall and clenched her eyes shut. _Breathe_.

 _No, no that fast_. She shut her mouth before she began to hyperventilate and tried to gather her thoughts.

So, the King was in her house. That was a fact she had to come into terms with and quick if she did not want to spend an embarrassing amount of time hiding in here.

_But why, why, why was he here?_

Perhaps he was here to explain away his actions Saturday night. That could be bearable, but only if her mother wasn't present. That amount of embarrassment she could never live down.

Or he could be here with some form she'd have to sign so she would never breathe another word about what had happened to anyone. She would be happy to jot out her signature under anything, but why did he have to come in person?

This was nothing less than her worst nightmare.

After enough time had passed to make her whole flight edge on awkward, she grabbed a cardigan and tied it around her to make herself at least somewhat more presentable and stepped back in, an infinitesimal piece of her dignity still intact.

Sergio rose from his seat as he saw her enter which made the whole thing, incredibly enough, even more awkward.

"Your- your majesty," she stammered, not quite sure what the hell she was supposed to say in a situation like this. _How do you do, what nice weather we are having, by the way, where did you get my address?_

"Please, it's Sergio for you," he answers softly which made Marivi, who had been in the process of pouring him more coffee, spill most of it on the table. Luckily, was too polite to pay any mind to it.

"What are you doing here, uh, Sergio?" she finally managed to ask.

After a moment of gazing at her, he seemed to wake from some sort of a trance. "Ah yes," he said quickly and started digging up something from his suit pocket.

It ended up being a silken handkerchief that he unfolded in front of her with utmost care and gentleness.

Slowly, her earring was revealed to rest on his palm. Raquel's eyes widened.

"My earring," she exhaled and reached out to take it. At the same time, Sergio picked it up and tried to offer it to her. For one heartbeat, their fingers touched and Raquel's breath hitched in her throat for a reason she could not explain.

She took it and they both quickly withdrew their fingers.

There were dozens of questions bubbling in her mind but with Marivi staring at them like exotic animals, she could not voice a single one of them.

"Mama, would you mind if we stepped into the corridor for a moment?" she asked.

"Oh, of course."

She busied herself with her with efforts to wipe the coffee off the table, but her eyes followed them as they exited the kitchen. Raquel closed the door behind her with a firm click and turned to look at Sergio.

"I am sorry to have barged in like this," he started, his voice almost frustratingly gentle. "It is just that your mother let me in and I-"

"Why did you return it?" she quickly interrupted.

Sergio blinked.

"You mean-"

"My earring."

"Why wouldn't I? You dropped it on the stairway and I assumed you would want it recovered. It is a nice earring…"

Raquel felt the compelling urge to direct her gaze at her feet. "Yes, thank you. I appreciate it but… you didn't have to come all the way down give it back to me. Surely, you have staff for that."

Sergio did not answer, forcing Raquel to look back up at him.

"So why did you?"

Even though he kept silent, the answer was plain in his earnest gaze.

Raquel felt her airways shrink and her heart leap up to her throat, every molecule in her body suddenly plunged into boiling water.

It was as if she was back in that stairway all over again. He was staring at her with _that look_ in his eyes and she was consumed by an insurmountable urge to flee or at least back away.

Why had she brought them to the corridor? It was narrower than she'd remembered, and there were not more than 20 centimeters between them. The cramped space only amplified the suffocating tension in the room and she could feel his gaze on her skin as keenly as if it were his hands. Not even the cardigan was able to protect her from the weight of it and she kept uselessly tugging it tighter around her.

Just when she thought she could not bear it anymore, Sergio's face darkened in shame and he took a step back.

"I also came here to apologize as well as to return your earring. What I said to you at the end of the night…"

Raquel tensed. He was trying to take it back.

She might as well let him, it was not as if she had truly believed him in the first place. 

"Oh that," she said with a small voice. "That is quite alright. After all that champagne, I do not fault you for saying something so… passionate. We all say something we don't mean when we have alcohol in our systems."

Sergio frowned at that, looking somehow troubled at her words. There was an oddly familiar shade of emotion in his eyes, but Raquel couldn't quite discern what it was. It was something akin to vulnerability she had seen in the gazes of men who had just been rejected.

But Sergio was not here to offer himself up for her. She must have read his expression wrong. 

"What I am trying to say is that it is all forgotten," she lied with a frail smile on her face. "Please don't worry that I think of you any less because of it."

Next, his expression turned even more remorseful as if he'd only heard the latter part of the sentence.

"Right," he sputtered, not quite making up his mind about whether to look at her or the wall behind her. "I truly am sorry. I completely understand why you reacted the way you did. I shouldn't have chased you, and I shouldn't have said.. what I said."

He combed his fingers through his hair. It was bizarre seeing such a powerful figure so nervous in front of her. She'd seen him like this once before, when they had first talked to each other but surely, he should he have nothing to be nervous about anymore. What was she to him, after all?

He was still going. "I don't know what happened that night. I never do things like that, I never lose control. Not when it comes to matters such as these-"  
But you-"

"Hey, it's alright. No damage done," she comforted. "It was actually kind of flattering."

"That at least," he said, and there was that same fragile look in his eyes again.

He cleared his throat and started fixing his tie as if only to give his hands something to do. "Well, you have your earring back and I have said what I came here to say."

"Right."

"I should probably get going."

He nodded at her rather awkwardly and started slowly walking towards the front door. He looked somehow so downtrodden in the process, that Raquel felt an odd tightness in her chest. Somehow, she felt both relieved and anguished at the same time.

"Do stay to finish your coffee at least," she called out before she could think. "And we should have some pastries too, if you want."

He turned around to look back at her, his expression completely changed.

"If it is not too much trouble," he asked carefully.

"Of course not."

He smiled, and Raquel felt odd warmth rise high in her chest.

* * *

When she opened the door to go back to the kitchen, they found Mariví staggering a step back on the other side, a glass in her hand. Raquel suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious act of eavesdropping and waltzed in.

"His Majesty is staying for some more coffee," she told her mother. "We have pastries lying around somewhere, don't we?

One expression chased after another on Mariví's face as she processed this information. Commendably enough, she came to terms with the fact the King of Spain would be eating in her kitchen surprisingly fast and started smiling brighter than if she had swallowed the sun itself.

"Of course, of course," she said, nervously sorting out some errant strands of her hair. "We only have some roscos in the freezer, but I can whip up something-"

"Roscos will do just fine," said Sergio, smiling. 

"But-"

"Mama, it's fine," Raquel comforted. 

"If you don't mind, I need to make a phone call. I did not expect I'd be able to stay this long," Sergio said, miserably failing at hiding his genuine joy about the notion. 

Raquel smiled and nodded at him, and he stepped out of the room with his phone. 

The very second the door had closed after him, Marivi's head whipped to Raquel.

"Don't start," Raquel pleaded, but it was no use. Her mother's eyes were already bulging out of her head.

"The king of Spain is in my house! How could I not say a word. Raquel, I am going to-"

"Just calm down, okay?"

" _What_ happened that night?" she asked, looking like she expected nothing less some scene ripped straight out of some Hollywood epic.

"Nothing," Raquel said, hugging herself. "Let's just get those roscos ready-"

"No, it cannot be nothing because there is only one reason why men like him come all the way down here to return an earring you picked out from the sale bin!"

Raquel's throat turned dry. She'd rather not think about that.

"Don't be ridiculous. He is just being a gentleman," she finally scoffed and directed her attention to the freezer.

"No need to bother with that just yet, we need to get you ready before he comes back."

"What do you mean-"

She got her answer as her mother launched at her with a tube of lipstick she'd conjured out of thin air.

* * *

Sergio did not exactly tell the prime minister the truth of why he needed to postpone today's meeting. Tamayo would have laughed in his face anyway if he'd told him it was because the woman he most admired in the world had invited him to have coffee with her and her mother.

But now he was here, sitting in their table and nothing in the world could wrest him away from this spot, no matter how much he felt like a silly schoolboy.

He kept stealing glances Raquel her like a magpie carefully collecting precious objects to its nest one by one.

Good god, she was beautiful. Even now, without all that preparation that must have gone into her appearance the previous two times he'd seen her.

She was even more alluring now than then, with her hair tumbling freely down on her shoulders and that cardigan constantly slipping down her shoulder and revealing the bare skin underneath (that he tried his hardest not stare at) and those legs-

All of it made his whole body tense. He found his fingers winding around his coffee cup like a vice.

It was almost unfair. Her beauty was like a sucker punch to his gut. He thought it wouldn't be possible to feel even more ungainly in her presence after Saturday, so how could he have prepared?

She was sitting beside him at the table, listening to her mother talk. She kept nervously biting her lower lip ever so often. He wished he could get her to relax somehow, but that wouldn't be possible as long as he was sitting here like a stiff plank himself.

For the longest while, Sergio found himself too nervous to move or speak. It was as if the very second he drew too much attention to himself, Raquel would realize that no, she did not want this impertinent man with them and send him packing.

After all, he _had_ made a complete ass of himself. After struggling against his emotions all night, a single song had made him reveal to her that he had been dreaming about her for 15 years. After merely seeing her sing one night.

His brother would have disowned if he had witnessed that exchange. Sergio had probably transgressed against every single rule of courtship in existence.

Not that he was courting her. His eyes flickered to her again. He knew better than to imagine that he could in any shape or form get a woman like _her_. Her reaction that night and her rejection just now had nipped such hopes right in the bud.

No, he was simply grateful that she had not laughed her out of the house the second he'd showed up. Just getting to be here was almost too good to be true, in fact. 

He looked at her once again but this time, she looked back and he had to wrench his eyes away. He fixed his gaze on the coffee, drew his mouth into a thin line, and brought the cup to his lips in a rather wooden manner.

Raquel's mother glanced at her admiringly. She probably took his stiffness as some regal poise rather than the panic it really was. In truth, he had no idea what he was doing. He had not planned any of it this far.

After finding the earring yesterday, he'd spent the better part of the day debating what he should do with it. He could somehow inform her that he had her it and she could come and get it, or he could send one of his aides to deliver it.

But none of those options had sounded very appealing. If he took the former route, she might not even show up. He had no idea how much that earring was worth to her (right then, he'd hoped it was the most precious thing she'd ever owned). And if he took the latter… Well…

It was simply not what he wanted.

He knew it was selfish, but when he'd seen that precious thing glimmer in the dim lighting of the stairway and had crouched down to carefully pick it up, he had felt _lucky_.

This tiny object was a chance to see her again. 

The enthusiastic encouragement from his brother in regards to this plan made Sergio doubt it a little bit (after all, it was Andrés), but in the end, he took a shot of liquid courage and sneaked away from his personal protection officers and aides once again to see Raquel Murillo.

After his driver had taken him to Estrella Productions, her workplace, he'd decided it would be for the best to avoid the commotion that his royal majesty himself marching in would cause and sent in his driver to bring Raquel outside. But soon later, the man had returned with empty hands. Apparently, Raquel was not there today but he'd told Sergio not to worry because he'd been told where she could be found. Sergio had nodded and the driver had punched in a new address on his GPS.

Only when the view from the window started to look suspiciously suburban had Sergio realized his driver had probably been given Raquel's home address. He must have pulled the _employee_ of the King of Spain card in order to get it which made Sergio deeply uncomfortable. Not only was it a violation of her privacy, but someone at the Estrella Productions also now knew that the King's driver had wanted Raquel's address. He had hope, however, that his driver had made sure that information wouldn't be shared. The man could be rather… intimidating when it came to protecting Sergio's comings and goings.

When they'd finally arrived at Raquel's front door, he'd been half-determined to abandon the whole pursuit and seek her out later when she was back at work, but at that moment Raquel's mother had stepped through the door and seen the black Bentley in front of her house. Sergio had had no choice but to step out of the car and explain himself.

And just like that, he was sitting in their table with a cup of coffee in his hands and Raquel's mother Mariví fussing over him, his mind full of fog.

He'd only imagined his plan up to the point where he saw her brown eyes again, and it was now well past that point. He felt completely out of his depth.

Luckily Raquel's mother's stories provided something other than Raquel's distracting presence to focus on. She was currently recounting a tale where young Raquel had been a flower girl at a wedding and had ended up accidentally dumping all the flowers on the priest's face. Raquel was squirming in her seat throughout the story which made it all just more endearing. He couldn't help smiling and laughing.

"And there was this one time when little Raquel was on the second grade-"

"Mama, I don't think the king is very interested in hearing about my childhood," Raquel interrupted tersely.

"On the contrary," Sergio said. Not only did he treasure every new crumb of information he learned about Raquel, he also found himself relaxed in strange company for the first time in years. Raquel's mother made no attempt to try to impress him or talk about only sophisticated topics. No, she was treating Sergio like he was any other man Raquel had brought home and was now telling embarrassing stories of her daughter with gusto.

Raquel flashed him an exasperated look, and their eyes met. He gave her a lopsided smile in return, and to his pleasant surprise, she started slowly smiling too.

Far too soon, she looked away but the impact had been left. _He had gotten her to smile._

Mariví then rose and started to clear away the table. Watching his empty plate be taken away from him, Sergio frowned and considered whether he dared to ask for a third cup of coffee. He didn't want this moment to be over quite yet.

As Sergio was gazing at Raquel and trying to think of something to say that might make her smile again, there was the sound of spurting water and a gasp from Mariví. He snapped his head around and saw that she had been sprayed by the kitchen faucet who was still spurting out water while making ugly, gurgling noises.

At once, Raquel leaped off from her seat and rushed to the sink. She grabbed the handle and twisted on it so hard her hands turned momentarily red. That was what finally curbed the spits of water.

"Why didn't you call the repairman?" murmured Raquel to her mother.

"You told me I shouldn't before you had gotten your first paych…"

Her words faded away and both of the women glanced uncomfortably at Sergio to see if he had heard them. Sergio vigorously pretended he hadn't and focused on emptying his coffee cup.

"Sorry, just a little mishap with the faucet," apologized Marivi with a charming smile. "Has been acting up for a while."

"Not too long," added Raquel.

"Just a couple of months," Marivi said and for some reason, earned a death glare from her daughter.

"I could take a look at it," he blurted out before he could think.

Both of the women's gazes darted at him.

"You know how to do that?" asked Raquel with a frown at the same as Marivi's face lit up and a delighted "Really?" escaped from her lips.

"I have some experience," he answered truthfully and started taking off his suit jacket. 

After a moment's hesitation, Raquel's mother rushed to take it from him.

"I think it might have something to do with the drainpipe," she started explaining, folding his jacket carefully away.

Raquel shook her head vigorously. "No, no. Mama, we are seriously not letting _His Majesty_ fix our sink."

"And why not?" Said Marivi, setting her arms on her hips. "The man offered!"

"And it was very kind of him to do so-," Raquel said, glancing at Sergio who was now rolling up his sleeves. "But shouldn't we leave this to an expert? After all, this is not really… a part of your job description."

"I would say it is," he answered, already opening the kitchen cabinet to assess the situation.

"You are really going to do it, aren't you?" she asked, looking completely confounded.

He gave a little grin as his answer.

He turned to Marivi. "Do you have a toolbox?"

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rushed out of the room to get it while Raquel started rubbing her temple with a pained look on her face.

* * *

It took Sergio half an hour to get everything back in working condition and by the end of it, his shirt was all grimed up and his hair was plastered on his forehead from the sweat. But it was all worth it because Marivi was beaming and clapping her hands as the stream of water ran out of the faucet smooth and perfect and Raquel…

Raquel was looking at him like she didn't quite believe he existed.

"As I said, I have some experience," he said with a rather abashed smile, patting the towel she had offered him against his face. "Now, is there anything else I could help you with?"

"Actually…" Mariví started.

Raquel snapped her head to her. "Mama, no!"

But her protests fell to deaf ears. Mariví told him about a fuse that had blown in the cellar which he replaced in no time, and after that, there was a pendant lamp to be hung and a floorboard to nail in place. He did all while Raquel kept her head buried in her hands, intermittent groans of embarrassment escaping from her lips. 

Finally, he ended upstairs assembling an Ikea storage unit. Marivi had just gone downstairs to get him something to drink but Raquel had stayed, staring at him with that same wondrous expression as before. Sergio found himself rather enjoying it. 

"Can I ask you how you know all this?" she asked as he leafed through the final instructions for a _Bestå_ cabinet.

"I was surprised you hadn't already," Sergio chuckled. 

Basic plumbing was just one of the things his father had taught him. Sergio remembered how he'd used to gather him and Andrés around him and try to bore one lesson in particular into their minds.

_Sons, you have been born into a position of privilege. You must never forget that. I want you to be always aware of it, and always use it to help people before yourself. But that is not the only way I need you to help others. You must learn how to help in practical matters, with work you might think is beneath you. It is not. Besides fame and power, you have a pair of hands just as everyone else, and you are going to use those hands to unclog toilets, clean gutters and change tires. No son of mine is ever going to sit twiddling his thumbs while others do the dirty work for them._

He told this all to Raquel whose lips had parted in soft astonishment.

"Your father sounds like a good man," she exhaled.

"I suppose, if you ignore all his extramarital affairs," Sergio said as he fastened the final bolt. "Hey, all done."

He took a step back to admire his handiwork, but Raquel did not do the same. She was staring up at him with that marveling expression on her face. Like he was completely different from what she'd ever expected.

Sergio almost felt like he was going against his father's words by doing all these tasks. This was not selflessness, this was pure greed to see more of that look in her eyes.

"So, do you think your mother will like it?" Sergio asked, gesturing awkwardly at the piece of furniture.

"I think nothing you do could disappoint her. She is halfway in love with you after all this."

Sergio let out a raspy laugh at that.

Raquel crossed her arms and leaned back with a playful smile on her lips.

"So have these skills come in handy when you've wanted to charm a beautiful woman?"

He turned to look at her. "You tell me."

He only realized what he'd achieved when she looked away with a smile and a blush. He'd just flirted with her. Successfully.

If only Andrés could see him now.

As he considered whether he should double down on his flirting or play it cool and feverishly flipped those two options in his mind, Mariví stepped inside the room and gasped as she saw the finished product.

"Oh dear, what we have done to deserve you," she wondered aloud as she examined the cabinet from every angle. "My daughter's ex-husband did not even know which way up he should hold a hammer!"

"Mama," Raquel berated sharply once again. "His Majesty and Alberto are hardly in any category together where they could be compared."

"Whatever you say, mi amor," she said and turned to look at Sergio who was flushed with pleasure at her words. "You must let us serve you dinner! It is the least we can do for you."

"I am sorry but I cannot stay much longer. I'm afraid that I am expected."

He'd probably kept Tamayo waiting for at least two hours. He inwardly grimaced.

"But we must reward you in some way!" said Mariví, aghast. "Is there nothing I can give or do for you?"

"Please, I'm just happy to have helped."

"How about a cake? I could bake one in no time. Maybe a pair of woolly socks? I have been knitting-"

"I appreciate all your offers, but really I don't require anything."

"Not even a dinner date with my daughter?"

That did give him a pause. For a moment he was frozen, his brain enthusiastically processing the offer.

"Okay mama, I think His majesty doesn't have any more time for chitchat," Raquel said quickly, stepping between Sergio and her mother with her face red. "He's a busy man, after all."

Sergio nodded. "Thank you for having me. It was truly a pleasure."

Mariví's answer to that was a spluttering of humble objections and even stronger expressions of gratitude that faded away only after Raquel had gently guided him out of the room.

She swept a lock of hair nervously behind her ear. "I think it is better if you use the back door. Just because… Well, the neighbors would never let me hear the end of it."

"Of course," Sergio agreed. He knew very well how much-unwanted attention his visit here could bring to her, and it was the last thing he wanted her to go through. "No need to worry, I was cautious on arrival here too. Only my driver knows where I am."

 _And one employee of Estrella Productions,_ said a guilty voice at the back of his head. 

_They wouldn't say a word. Mateo must have made sure of it._

She showed him the way to the back of the house and opened the door for him. They halted on the threshold in silence that was not exactly awkward, but tension-filled in a different way. Like they were both anticipating a tautened string to snap.

He wasn't sure what Raquel was expecting to happen, but he knew _he_ could not leave without unleashing at least one of the things that had been churning inside him ever since he sat next to her on the table.

_I don't know what you are doing to me. I cannot think clearly when I am near you._

_I lied before. I am not sorry about all what I told you that night._

_I want to see you again._

Or, rather.

_I need to see you again._

But before he could voice any of these sentiments, he discovered what Raquel had been waiting for.

"You made my mother so happy today, I don't know how to thank you enough."

Before he could realize what was happening, she leaned forward, and for the duration of one heartbeat, her lips were pressed against his cheek. 

His mind was wiped blank.

She did not have time to withdraw before they saw a flash that made both of their heads snap around.

Then a fraction of a second later, the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrés attempts to stop Sergio from doing something stupid. Raquel receives an invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fandom is honestly the best. I don't think I have ever gotten as many comments as I did for the last chapter. You made me cry, happy now?
> 
> Once again, sorry about the delay. I will try to update and answer comments to the best of my ability. Just kick my ass about it on twitter or something every once in a while haha.
> 
> Thank you once again to Ziyal_Lia for writing lyrics to Raquel's songs in this fic. You are priceless.

It had been a relatively uneventful day for Gandía when his source at Estrella Productions gave him the tip. King Sergio had personally requested the address of the woman he'd invited to sing at the palace last weekend. Would be worth dropping by the place if it turned out to be what they both suspected; an illicit tryst between the King of Spain and some disreputable singer.

Only one photo would be hopefully worth hundreds of euros. Gandía did not even hesitate before writing down the address and hopping into his car. 

Cases like this were especially near to his heart. There was something invigorating in being able to knock men like King Sergio II down a few notches. He tried his damn hardest to give off an image of himself as some goody-two-shoes who only had the best interest of his nation at heart, but in the end, he was just a man. A man who needed to get his rocks off like anyone else. A man who lusted after women besides his girlfriend.

Hey, Gandía couldn't blame him. If he was the King dating that ice queen Lady Sierra, he would take as many side pieces as he possibly could as well. Too bad for him, he was about to get exposed for his dirty deeds. 

This is why you needed to be smart about stuff like this. Do not bring the chick to your home or go to hers, be as discreet as possible while moving to and fro from the rendezvous place, and definitely do not inquire after her address where anyone could hear.

Oh well, others' stupidity meant Gandía's buck.

He soon arrived at the address in question and began his long watch. His line of work wasn't suited just for anyone. It demanded patience. One rash action, and you might as well flush your money down the drain. Perfect moment was at what you needed, and to achieve that you had to be as both resilient and laser-focused.

Not many people appreciated how much skill this took.

He took his position in shrubbery in the empty lot at the back of the house. Waiting on the front side of the house in a car was a rookie mistake. If people truly had something to hide, they used the back door which was why Gandía had a perfect stalking spot picked out on the backyard of every celebrity and politician worth knowing. 

But he couldn't lie, he almost lost hope during the fourth hour of his watch. No curtains had been drawn shut nor had the lights been dimmed. It seemed like a quite innocent social call.

Gandía wouldn't let that stop him, however. If he got the right picture, he could sell any sort of story regardless of the actual truth. He would just need King to step out of that door, and he would work out the rest.

Just when he was considering crushing some ants under his boots to pass the time, his patience was finally rewarded. First, the King stepped out and - he almost couldn't believe his luck - the woman followed him to the doorstep. He instantly took a rapid round of snapshots of them both, but the two figures were disappointingly far away. His zoom simply could only help so much when the ideal composition was what he was after.

He knew any publication would be more than happy about these photos, but he wanted more. He wanted the perfect encapsulation of King Sergio's downfall, and he wouldn't be satisfied until he got it.

So he left his hideout and got a little closer.

Then, something he wouldn't even have dared to dream about happened. The woman leaned in for a kiss, and Gandía threw all caution to the wind. He leaped forward and took the photo.

In his haste, he'd forgotten to adjust the flash, and the strong burst of light caused both the King and the woman to whip their heads around. He'd been caught.

That was fine, as long as he got away. However, the horrified expressions on their faces were too delicious not to capture, so he risked one more picture.

In an instant, the woman had turned on her heel and was rushing back inside like a frightened gazelle. _As if fleeing now would erase her mistake_ , Gandía thought with a smirk. The king turned to look after her, an absolutely devastated expression on his face. That would be the last he ever saw of that trollop, Gandía guessed.

Next, the king turned to him and Gandía deemed it was the time to pack up his equipment. He did quickly so and made a run for it.

Troublingly enough, however, the King had a surprising amount of leg power for someone who presumably only cut ribbons to hospitals all day. Gandía had trouble shaking him off which was strange because he never lost a race against a disgruntled victim of his photos. He was a professional, after all.

Luckily his car would be just around the corner…

 _Shit_. He'd taken the wrong turn, and now all he was facing was a brick wall and a dead end. 

He was forced to turn around and he did so, holding his hand up in a warning gesture. The King was just behind him and did not shy away from marching towards him with an ever-increasing ferocity in his step despite Gandía's defensive stance.

"Give me the camera," he said with a low, dangerous voice. "If you cooperate, there is no reason to worry."

Gandía wanted to laugh out loud. Did that man seriously think he was afraid of him? Some pampered aristocrat?

In the end, only a shaky chuckle escaped him. "I don't have to give you anything."

"Is that so?" the King said, taking another step closer. Gandía took one back.

"I am just doing my job," he spat out.

"I can compensate you for whatever money you might be losing here. All I need is that camera."

His expression was severe and Gandía could see the fury in his eyes, but his voice was calm. So calm it annoyed him more than anything.

The bastard thought he could be bought this easily. As if it was just about the money for him. As if he didn't have _integrity_.

Besides, it wouldn't be worth handling the camera to him just like that. The story these photos could create give him work for weeks, maybe months and that was worth more than whatever number the man had in his head.

"I don't know why you are so upset. If you didn't want your pic snapped, you shouldn't have paid your whore a visit in broad daylight-"

He didn't get to finish before he was stumbling back from the impact of the King's fist colliding with his face.

He'd struck him straight on the mouth. Pain exploded in his jaw. He could taste blood on his tongue. It took a while before he was able to blink the water from his eyes and stand up straight again.

It was not the worst blow he'd received on the job and he didn't think anything was broken. Half of the daze he now felt was born from the shock, not the pain. He had been punched. B _y the King of Spain._

His camera had fallen as the punch had been delivered, and the bastard had picked it up. Gandía regained his senses just as the man had removed the memory card. He dropped it to the ground and proceeded to crush it with the sole of his shoe.

There it was, days worth of work in mere tatters on the ground. The masterful shots he had taken gone forever. 

_How dared he?_

The King then slung him the camera, and Gandía instinctively caught it.

"If you come even within a 10-kilometer radius of this house ever again, I will personally make sure that the grandchildren of your grandchildren will be paying for your court fees," he said, his voice still calm.

With that said, he turned on his heel and stalked off, rubbing his angry-red knuckles with his other hand. 

Gandía spat out a clump of blood on the ground as he watched him go. 

He'd did not care whether he was the King of Spain. He had made it personal by humiliating him in this manner. No one did that to Gandía without living to regret it.

Some day, he would make him pay for this. Bitterly.

* * *

After the sixth consecutive day the King asked his dinner to be sent into his room, the staff became worried. Andrés less so. He knew that his brother could disappear into his pet projects for weeks at a time and then resume his normal activities as nothing had happened. What finally gave Andrés a pause, however, was Sergio missing their weekly chess match on the account of "being busy". He _never_ skipped chess, he even made it happen via different methods of telecommunication when he was abroad. It was definitely a worrisome sign. 

The potential reason for Sergio's withdrawal dawned on Andrés soon later as he discovered that Sergio had put a certain artist on the palace's no-play list. _Raquel Murillo._

His little brother was heartsick. That was it.

After this realization, Andrés managed to track his brother down at the palace gym. He was doing pull-ups at the bar set up on the back wall and listening to something on his earbuds.

He was so immersed in the activity he did not notice Andrés sneaking up behind him and snatching his ancient IPod from the table. He swiped to his Favorites tab. Soon, the silken voice of Raquel Murillo flooded Sergio's ear channels because he gave a start and almost lost his grasp. 

He turned around, saw him, and shot him with the nastiest glare he had possibly ever given him (which was quite something because the look he had given him the time Andrés had tricked him into the jury of a wet T-shirt contest during their university days was simply unforgettable).

"What is the matter? I thought you liked listening to her as you worked out. Cállate has a good rhythm to it, doesn't it?"

Sergio wordlessly walked up to him and tried to take back his iPod but Andrés evaded his grasp and started singing and making teasing little dance moves instead.

_"Calla, calla, cállate. Tus palabras no valen nadaaaaa..."_

Sergio ended up having to almost wrestle Andrés to get back his listening device and when he finally did, he simply plugged the earbud back in with a grim expression and turned back to the bar as if no one had had never even interfered.

Andrés let out a long-suffering sigh. 

"Checo, I am only saying this because I care for you, but you are being completely fucking ridiculous now."

Sergio's answer to that was tapping the side of his earbud to increase the volume. Goddamn _Vivaldi_ started bleeding through, and Andrés suppressed his urge to roll his eyes. 

He counteracted by grabbing Sergio's IPod from the table and turning it off so he'd be forced to listen to him.

"Won't you at least tell me what happened with her? Just so that I could tell the staff that no, you are not covering up an oxy addiction and that this is more from the 'your crush turned you down for the school dance' area."

"Nothing happened with her," Sergio grunted, either from the extortion of the activity or general annoyance. 

"Is that the problem?" Andrés asked, tilting his head in mock concern in the way he knew drove Sergio up the wall. "I know I told you that returning that earring in person would be the best move you could possibly make, but that alone is not what does the trick. You have to put in some effort yourself, tell her how enchanting and brilliant she was that night, stuff like that to heat her up under the waist. Don't blame me if you didn't manage to-"

"Oh I am not blaming you, but I am blaming myself for listening to you," he hissed out.

It only took that slight provocation to get Sergio to relate the story to him, from getting her address to having coffee with her mother to chasing the paparazzi around her neighborhood and destroying his memory card.

When he'd tried to go back to Raquel's house, he'd found that no one would let him in. And when he'd tried to throw a pebble at her window, the woman had come to it only to shake her head vigorously at him and draw the curtains shut, having quite effectively broken his brother's heart in the process judging by the state of him as he recounted these events. 

"I swear to god, I am never doing anything under your advice ever again," he hissed out after finishing.

"It's not my fault there was a paparazzi there. I only guided you in the direction of getting some action which you did, so really, you ought to be thanking me."

In Andrés' mind, a cheek could not be counted as 'action' in any sense of the word, but he wanted to be nice and make Sergio feel like he'd accomplished something.

Sergio's face twisted and his eyes got a faraway look in then. "I guess I am now the kind of man who ruins lives for a chance to get a kiss on the cheek."

He looked so scandalized at the mere notion of being reprehensible enough to accept that kiss from Raquel that Andrés couldn't resist needling him about it.

"Unprotected lip to skin contact? If I had pearls, I'd be clutching them right now."

"It is not funny. Not when the whole thing was photographed."

"What is the issue here? A photo or two is given if any woman is breathing near your vicinity. She is a big girl, she should be able to handle it."

"You didn't see her face," said Sergio with a weak voice. "Like her worst nightmare had come true. And I made it happen."

Sergio's face was so gray and harrowed that it made Andrés' stomach turn. His brother really, really didn't want anything bad to happen to this woman.

He brought a comforting smile on his face. 

"I doubt this is anything you can't fix. Send her some roses - or whatever her favorite flower is, get someone to find out. She'll be back giving you smooches in no time at all," Andrés said with a carefree air. "And remember, next time turn your head a little when she goes for the cheek so that she gets your mouth instead- What was that? What was that nasty look you just gave me? Checo, if a kindergarten tactic like this is something you consider too _dastardly_ , I am sorry to say but you are never even going to make it up to the first base with her."

"There is not going to be a next time. I'm not going to see her again, and I am definitely not trying to get to any base with her," Sergio snapped.

Andrés' mouth quirked.

"Why this sudden change of heart? I thought you wanted her. "

"When have I ever said that?" Sergio asked, abandoning the pull-up bar altogether and stalking off.

Andrés followed patiently after him. "You might have given such an impression once or twice."

"Well, whatever you thought is wrong. I admire her greatly, both as a person and an artist, but those feelings are strictly unsentimental."

Andrés suppressed the urge to his give the back of his head a good smack. Sergio was frustratingly too much like an ostrich who dug his head deep in denial the second his inner equilibrium was in any sort of danger of getting exposed to _feelings_. Andrés found himself at times admiring the Olympics-level mental gymnastics he sometimes practiced in order to detach himself from anything that had even remotely something to do with his heart.

"So you blew off the meeting with Tamayo in order to unclog Raquel Murillo's kitchen sink because it seemed like objectively the best use of your time?" he asked wryly.

"I simply wanted to help. Anyone could have done the same."

"So you wouldn't mind if I went up to her house to help her out next time? I must say, I wouldn't mind spending more time with that woman," Andrés teased, managing to provoke a reaction out of his brother. He turned to him with blazing eyes.

"You're not going to do anything of the sort."

"And the reason for that is…?" he prodded, smiling.

"Oh go fuck yourself, Andrés."

Andrés lifted his brow in surprise. Sergio hardly ever cursed, even when Andrés was acting at his peak annoying, and he did not think he had reached that level yet. His brother's feelings must be even more hurt than he'd suspected.

Sergio grabbed a towel and began almost aggressively wiping off sweat from his body. Andrés was just about to adopt his most mellow expression for a proper brother-to-brother chat when Sergio opened his mouth and let out his announcement.

"I have decided to go official with my relationship with Lady Sierra."

Andrés blinked once, then twice.

"You have what?"

"It is no use procrastinating it any longer," Sergio sighed, dropping down the towel. "I need to go through this whole process some day, and it might as well be now."

Sergio was speaking about marriage like it was arduous but a necessary evil like your regular Joe would complain about his tax forms or getting his car inspected. 

It was rather disturbing, but Andrés shouldn't be surprised. Sergio had been going on dates and started relationships at regular intervals it was something on his checklist without deriving a single ounce of actual pleasure from it. Getting himself a queen was just another item on the itinerary.

It actually made Andrés a little angry. The resigned look on his face was only proof that their father had fucked them both up in this one aspect of their lives.

It was almost no wonder that Sergio had crushed on that singer as hard as he'd done. After a lifetime of considering everything pragmatically, there was only so long he could've kept the opposing force of all that detachment in.

"So when were you thinking of doing this?" Andrés asked calmly, knowing not to argue against Sergio this time. That would only make the resolution grow firmer in his head.

"I was thinking of getting the official courtship photos done before the state dinner in US. That way I could take Alicia with me, and we could do our first public outing on the get-go. After that, we could go even weeks before they would need us to show up together somewhere again."

" _How romantic_."

Sergio shrugged. "It was we what both agreed on. It is purely-"

"Practical, I know," Andrés finished. "So this whole thing has already been set in motion?"

"Pretty much, yes."

Just as he'd feared. Andrés carefully concealed his look of displeasure from his brother. "And when was your trip again?"

"On the 27th."

Alright. So that gave Andrés two weeks. That was plenty of time to act.

"Very well. I just hope you know what you are doing."

"I do."

Andrés did not believe he quite did, but that was okay. That was what big brothers entered the picture and helped to steer the other away from the path leading to the biggest mistake of their life.

After he'd left Sergio sulking at the gym, he opened up a group chat and sent in an invitation for an outing. 

_Mini-golf tomorrow in Parque Europa? Need to discuss Sergio._

Affirmative answers started slowly trickling in, and Andrés smiled.

Some might call what he was doing right now an elaborate scheme of manipulation, but he'd rather think of it as loving guidance toward the right direction.

* * *

Agustín's delight at hearing what had happened yesterday was so great that his roar-like exclamation could be heard throughout the whole minigolf track.

"He assembled flatback furniture in her house?!" 

"Oh, he's got it bad," murmured Silene, leaning into her golf club while Agustín bellowed in laughter. "Like, so bad it is not even funny anymore. It's sad. So sad I wouldn't be surprised if he morse-coded 'fuck me pretty please cherry on top' with his eyelashes while he was at it."

"He certainly had the right approach. If a man offered to build me a cabinet I would jump him before he even got started," said Ágata, throwing her hair back.

"Which is exactly why men have been going to Ikea with their girlfriends since the beginning of time. Works every time. Or what do you say, mi amor?" says Ricardo, flashing a cheeky grin in his wife's direction. That earned him an eye-roll and affectionate shove from Mónica.

"Did not seem to work for him," Aníbal mused aloud. "You know, since he is all depressed now."

"What did you expect? It is Sergio. She could have dropped her panties down to her ankles right there and then and he still would have just kept on assembling. All we know, she probably did."

That gave rise to many other quips and barbs at Sergio's expense and the game of mini-golf ground to a halt much to the annoyance of the other customers waiting by the previous track. 

"As much as I agree with all this, I must clarify one crucial detail," Andrés said after having patiently waited for the others to run out of jokes about his brother's romantic cluelessness. "He did not assemble that cabinet for _her_. He did it for _her mother._ "

The laughter and chatter died down immediately, and the others turned to stare at Andrés.

Ricardo let out an impressed whistle and took off his hat in a sort of subconscious sign of respect. "I take it all back. That guy is playing the long con."

"I never thought I would say this but… I think Sergio might actually score himself a wife before the end of this decade," said Silene.

They all nodded in solemn agreement.

"Unfortunately there is no use making that sort of predictions," Andrés said with an almost theatrically deep sigh.

"What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat a little before delivering the bad news.

"I shouldn't be telling you this but…," he said, looking at them furtively. That only added to their curiosity and they stepped closer, now abandoning the game altogether.

"…My brother has locked down his plans to make his relationship with Lady Sierra official. That is the woman he is going to marry. Inside one year, I'd presume."

"No," they all gasped, almost simultaneously. Their faces turned to various shades of grey. 

"You cannot be serious."

"What is he thinking?"

"Please tell me that is not true."

"Unfortunately it is. He told me all this first hand," Andrés said, pursing his lips.

"I hope you at least tried to talk him out of it."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"It is no use trying to fight it. He has made his decision. And even if we were able to make him give up this plan, there would be just another duchess to take Alicia's place, someone perhaps even worse than her."

"I don't get it, why would he subject himself to this? Why does he keep dating women like her?"

"You know Sergio," he said, rolling his eyes and directing his club finally at the golf ball in front of him. "He is doing this whole thing mechanically. Listing women with the most queen potential, going through them one by one, hoping to one day find that future wife of his that he could date her just as mechanically. Just to please father and keep up the facade that he has some sort of a love life. Even with him long dead, he still feels the need to kiss his ass."

"That is not fair," Nairobi said tersely, irked by his remark. "We get it, your father was a prick who feared nothing more than his son not being entirely straight, but don't claim that Sergio is the only one who is hung up on him."

Andrés quirked one amused eyebrow, waiting for her to clarify.

"You have married seven women Andrés. Seven. Overcompensating much? What were you thinking, that if you slipped one guy in, he wouldn't notic-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Andrés took a violent swing of his golf club. The ball ended up flying in a vicious arc to the other side of the park where there were luckily no one at the receiving end of its wrath.

Silence descended on the track. The others could only stare at Andrés he seethed, his chest heaving with enraged breaths. Ágata bit her lip and crossed her arms, having learned her lesson about broaching the no-no topic.

Aníbal looked around, confused. Silene squeezed his shoulder. She would tell him later what this was all about.

"But what about Raquel?" Agustín asked with a carefree voice, swiftly changing the topic. "I mean, he seems really besotted with her. Couldn't she be someone worth considering?"

"Yes, but judging what Andrés just told us, she doesn't seem too comfortable in the spotlight. I think that kind of a position would just make her miserable."

"You've got a point. This is not the life for anyone," Ágata said, shrugging towards Denver who was in the process of threatening to hurl his golf club towards some customers who were trying to film the shaken state of the King's brother.

"Oh please, she is a singer. Being in the spotlight is her job," Silene said with a dismissive hand wave.

"Yeah, but not like this. I spent quite a while talking to her. She has a little kid and a divorce that is pending. This is definitely not the kind of shit she would need in her life right now," Mónica said.

It took a while for Andrés to clear his head. Whenever anyone even alluded to Martín he simply lost it, but he forced himself not to give in to his initial impulse of slamming his club down and marching off in fury. He sill had a role to play.

He signalled to others he was calm again by offering a small smile that immediately morphed into a saddened frown as he said his next words. "It is too bad it is not simpler. She seems like a woman who could use some more good things in her life. If not the love of the king, some friendship and kindness at least."

The others looked sorrowful at that.

"Isn't there anything we could do for her?"

"Well, she hasn't accepted any of my friend requests on social media," Silene said with a resigned grunt.

"Not mine either."

"She did not even add me back in LinkedIn."

"I do have her email," piped up Agustín. The others directed wide, curious looks at him. He shrugged. "She offered to send me a recipe. Turns out, we both like baking blueberry muffins."

They all gathered around Agustín who showed them his phone and the e-mail address. They let out little cries of triumph and whoops at that. They had established means of communication.

Andrés was pleased even though it did mean that all the work to find her contact information had been for nothing. Still, it was better if the others did not suspect they were being fed information.

"Alright, so we have her email. But what should we do with it?" mused Ágata.

"Silene, don't you have that birthday party coming up?" Andrés casually suggested.

"Oh that is true," said Mónica and clapped her hands together in excitement. "How about we invite her to that?"

"I'm fine with it, but would she agree to attend another event amongst royalty? I think that would be just the kind of publicity she would want to avoid," Silene objected.

"That is true," lamented the others, and the atmosphere dampened again. That was when Andrés almost ceremoniously brought his phone from his pocket and showed what he had on it to them.

"I have an idea that would allow her to attend the ball without suffering any scrutiny in the hands of the press."

Several variations of "Oooh" and "aaahhh" followed, and they all started nodding vigorously.

"Well that I haven't tried before," said Silene with a thoughtful expression. "Could be fun."

"I love the aesthetics of it."

"Oh, that is actually a cool idea."

"So mysterious."

"I can help you put it together, if you want," Andrés said with a smooth smile.

"You are weirdly generous today," Silene with a skeptical frown.

Andrés shrugged. "What can I say? I love trying out new things."

"But there is a problem. I don't think Raquel would be very keen on seeing Sergio again after that whole paparazzi fiasco. So we would have to invite one or the other."

"Oh, my brother won't be there. He has that trip scheduled to US that weekend," Andrés reminded them.

"But I thought the State dinner was only on Sunday."

"He is taking Alicia with him, and she wants to leave already on Thursday. There is much to see in DC, after all. All those sights to see, pictures to take, shops to visit…"

"Ugh, and she is making Sergio miss Silene's birthday for that crap?" Ágata asked with a sneer.

"This is the second time in the row he has missed my birthday, but is alright, I won't hold it against him," Silene said, looking very much like she meant the opposite of her words.

"He is a busy man, Silene. He is the head of this nation, after all," Andrés gently admonished and earned himself an eye-roll. "But the good news is that you'll be able to invite Raquel without anything standing in your way. I'm sure she'll love this."

"Oh, I wanna help you plan," Ágata said and grabbed Silene's arm. Within seconds, they were already immersed in a lively discussion about organizing this event.

The bait had been taken beautifully. Almost too beautifully, making Andrés a little embarrassed for his friends. Sometime after this was over, he would have to advise them on not allowing themselves to get so easily tangled up in other people's strings.

They agreed to cut the game short and go to a restaurant to continue party-planning. As they walked off together, Andrés was already working on the second step of his plan.

He was compiling photos of Silene and Sergio together on his phone. Childhood playdates on the beach. Pictures from her graduation. Selfies Silene had squeezed Sergio's face into during her previous birthdays. All fond memories.

It was time for operation guilt-trip.

* * *

Raquel spent the following week obsessively checking websites of different tabloids for any sign of the story of King Sergio II visiting her home. Strangely enough, absolutely nothing had popped up this far despite the paparazzo managing to snap a more than incriminating pic of her lips on Sergio's skin. Raquel could only guess that was the kind of material that made their whole year's salary. After all, when Sergio had been spotted lending a random woman his umbrella years ago, Raquel remembered the press had regurgitated the same story for weeks despite the two not having any relationship at all.

Despite the lack of a scandal this far, Raquel wouldn't let her guard down just yet. There was every reason in the world to believe that the footage was out there and just stowed away for a slow news week's use. So she had to take every safety measure she possibly could - including blocking any sort of contact from the King or the royal palace.

It had felt awful to flee like that and not to let Sergioback in when he'd tried to make himself known, but she'd had no other choice. She couldn't risk even a single more picture of them together. It was just the kind of ammunition Alberto would relish in getting to use against her.

There was nothing between her and Sergio, but the press would hardly care. Any woman seen with the king would be caught in the ensuing media storm nevertheless. That she couldn't afford, because no judge in their right mind would be able to be impartial when having to decide between a man in a stable relationship with a well-paying job and a woman who couldn't cross the street without being recognized as the King's illicit mistress who may or may not have a job (depending on how badly Prieto would react to this all).

No, she couldn't do it. Her daughter was more important than her guilt about hurting the King.

It was very sweet of him to return her the earring and even help them with the housework, but Raquel was starting to realize she shouldn't have asked him to stay in the first place. Just because she had wanted him to linger just a little bit longer, she had potentially risked her chances of winning the custody.

And for what exactly? What had she imagined letting him stay would have led to? And what had possessed her to kiss his cheek?

The memory of it still made heat flood her face and embarrassment consume her whole. The little rush of pleasure she had gotten when her lips had met his skin was nothing compared to the shame she felt about the whole incident now.

She also had the nagging fear that Sergio suspected that she had somehow arranged for the paparazzi to be there herself just to get her 15 minutes of fame. That could be the reason why he'd stayed to throw rocks at her window. Most likely to demand an explanation.

The thought of him perceiving her in this way caused her great anguish, but she would drive herself insane if she spent second more dwelling on it. There were many more important things to worry about. Like her life being potentially being ruined any second now.

So she quite effectively blocked the King from her mind until, of course, she got the e-mail.

She clicked it automatically open in the morning while going through her inbox and sipping coffee, and her drowsy mind did not immediately register its content. Only after she had slowly blinked her eyes open once or twice did she start to comprehend what was written on the screen in front of her.

_INVITATION_

_You're invited to the masquerade ball held in honor of Silene Oliveraira's birthday at mystery location on the 28th of October. Guests are asked to wear a Venetian mask and a gown of their choice and not to mention dona Oliveira's age at any point during the evening._

_Should you accept this invitation, a car will appear on your footstep at 5 o'clock on the night of the occasion to pick up you and your plus one._

_Please refrain from sharing any details about this event on social media._

  
Raquel read the e-mail a few more times to determine its legibility. It was too specific to her to be spam, she had met Silene after all, and too strange to be a hoax. In the end, she decided that she must have been sent an invitation by an accident and drafted a quick reply where she politely notified the sender of a misunderstanding.

Barely a minute had passed after she'd clicked send before another e-mail arrived with a little 'ding.' This one had no subject line.

\- _So what is your problem, Raquel? Why don't you want to come to my party?_

The style was unmistakably Silene's this time. This was getting weird.

 _\- Is this Silene Oliveira?_ she sent back.

\- _Who else dunce_ , came the answer.

 _\- So you want me to sing at your masquerade ball?_ she asked next.

_\- Did you even read that e-mail? You are INVITED. As in a GUEST._

Raquel stared at the e-mail, hesitated, and then sent in her reply.

_\- I think I understand now. But why?_

_\- You have no idea how making friends works, you know that? I guess I just have to hammer it in your head. You are cool and I want you there. And before you start making up excuses; there would be maximum security and everyone would have to wear a mask, so you wouldn't have to worry about ending up plastered on a magazine. It is all very anonymous. No one but us even knows the location._

After the initial surprise of being invited had passed, Raquel had to admit that she was tempted. That night, Paula would be at Alberto's and she was afraid that she had no other plans than to watch Pride and Prejudice on DVR with her mother and try not to think about her ever-increasing problems.

A masquerade ball was something different and thrilling. Too good to be true, in fact. There was no way she would be able to go. 

_\- I am grateful to be thought of, but I don't have an evening gown for that kind of an occasion, and I honestly don't think I could afford one right now. I don't have a mask either. I am sorry._

_\- Is that all that is standing in the way of you coming?_

_\- Yes, but it is a pretty big factor._

_\- Don't you worry about it_ , read Silene's final message. After that, she no longer answered to Raquel.

* * *

She had almost completely forgotten about the strange interaction by the time the parcel arrived. 

Her mother had no idea what it was, and neither did she. After deeming it was probably not a bomb or filled to the brim with animal feces, she gingerly opened it up.

She was then faced with the most beautiful and expensive-looking silk gown she had ever seen. Her mother almost went to cardiac arrest at the sight of it, and she would be lying if she claimed that her own heart had not skipped several erratic beats as she had stared at it.

With it in a smaller parcel had come a lace-edged Venetian mask which immediately revealed Raquel the sender. Without daring to touch at the garment nor the mask, she skittered upstairs where she turned on her laptop and drafted a strong-worded yet polite refusal of these gifts to Silene.

She only received an answer 24 hours or so later.

_\- What gown? I am too busy planning this ball to try to decipher some mail mix-up of yours. Just let me know if you are coming on the 20th at the latest._

Raquel saw no use in arguing further. Either Silene genuinely had no idea where the gown had come from (which was unlikely) or she'd never admit that she had something to do with it. Either way, she would get no reply.

She deliberated on the matter for a couple of days before she finally reached a decision. She could either let that gown remain unused in its box and spend that night in her usual misery, or she could enjoy one night worth of escapism and diversion with a pretty gown on. With the mask on, no one would know it was her. No one would shame her for enjoying herself or judge her for not belonging.

There was only one more answer she needed before she confirm.

 _\- Is the King coming?_ she sent Silene.

\- _No_ , came her immediate answer. _He is out of the country day._

There was a small tendril of disappointment nagging at the back of her mind, but the rational part of her knew that this was good news. No Sergio meant no further complications. She wouldn't have to worry about how he felt about her or how _she_ felt about _him_.

Raquel took a deep breath and typed in her answer.

_\- I will come._

* * *

The night of the masquerade ball, Raquel was standing in her bedroom and staring at herself from the mirror.

She almost looked like a completely different woman with the gown on. Someone that could actually stand next to Alicia and her friends and not stick out like a sore thumb.

The dress was made of burgundy red silk that rippled down to the ground in the form of ball gown-style skirts and swished when she turned. The shoulders were low, lower than in any gown she'd had ever worn, and her collarbone was completely exposed. On top of that, the slit on the side of the skirts revealed the most delicious glimpse of her leg as she moved. She rather loved it.

She ended up twirling in front of the mirror and giggling like a schoolgirl. She would of course return the gown in perfect condition after the night was over (she'd make sure Silene would take it) but in the meanwhile, she would take as much as she could get of this feeling she had when she had it on.

Just as Raquel had stopped to admire the back of the gown from the mirror, Mariví walked in.

"Oh cariño, it is gorgeous!" she exclaimed, rushing to her side to have a feel of the red silk. She let out a marveling _ah_ as she ran her hands along it. 

"I swear, I have never seen a dress this beautiful in my life," she murmured.

"It really is incredible," Raquel exhaled, more to herself than to her mother. It was still hard to believe she would get to wear something this gorgeous. And expensive too, she had better consume all food and drink injected straight into her vein that night in order not to ruin it.

"Are you sure it was not from _him_?" 

"Mama!"

"I'm just saying, it would not hurt to snap a pic of you and text it to him just to let him know it is all well appreciated."

"How many times do I have to tell you that this has nothing to do with him?" she sighed. "And why would I even have his number?"

Mariví threw up her hands, smiling sheepishly. "For situations just like this?"

"I doubt that he would care one bit what I am wearing tonight. He is in the US, with much more important things to concern himself with."

"Like whether or not he should immediately take a shower after shaking hands with that president of theirs?“

“Precisely."

Marivi let out a sigh, crossing her hands over her chest. "Still, it is a shame you won't get to see him tonight. You got along so well that day."

Raquel rolled her eyes fondly. The King of Spain only had to sit in Mariví's kitchen once for her never to stop mentioning it or designing him for her daughter. She wondered whether every mother had a gene inside her that was activated whenever a dashing man even glanced in their daughter's direction. She also wondered whether Paula would have to suffer the same fate in her hands later in life.

"Mama," she said again with a warning tone. "This is real life, not a fairytale." 

"I know, I know but let me have my dreams," Marivi sighed and began examining her hair. "We need to finish this up." 

She had been twisting and lathering her hair with all sorts of oils and mixtures all day. Now it only needed to be arranged.

In no time at all with her mother's help, a stream of elegant coils cascaded down her shoulder. The result was stunning, making all the painstaking work worth it. Looking into the mirror now, she almost felt like a duchess.

When her mother stepped out of the room, she added one last touch and picked up her earrings from where she had put them the night before. They were the worn pair Sergio had returned to her, and Marivi would never let her hear the end of it if she saw her put them on in her presence. 

She didn't know how to explain to her that going in any other pair wouldn't feel right to her. It just wouldn't.

She soon heard the front door open, and the sounds of terse chatter. It must be her plus one.

"Raquel, your friend is here," her mother then yelled from downstairs.

"Date, actually," corrected a male voice.

Raquel rolled her eyes.

"Coming," she called out and made her way downstairs.

She found her mother and Ángel in the kitchen. Mariví had a very stiff smile on her face as the two engaged in some stilted small talk. She had never really liked Ángel, and it seemed a sheer miracle she was able to be so civil with him now, considering how passionately she had been against Raquel bringing him as her plus one to the ball.

What she hadn't told her mother was that she was terrified of going there alone. The place would be filled to the brim with people she did not know and who she had nothing in common with. If he had Angel with her, she had at least someone familiar to lean onto. She wouldn't have to be a fish out of the water alone.

Sure, it had taken almost an hour to convince that they'd only be going as friends and Raquel was not entirely sure if he had even bought it at the end, but she had a good feeling that Ángel would be fun to have with her despite his faults. She needed someone with whom she wouldn't have to act like elegant balls were a staple of her life.

Ángel's head whipped around as she walked into the room and his eyes instantly widened.

"Woah," he said, let out a strange gargled noise and then coughed into his hand. Raquel took it as a positive reaction to her appearance.

"Shall we get going?" she suggested with a smile.

"Just a moment," Mariví said and leaped back up to her feet. She examined Raquel one more time, making sure there was not a hair out of place. After deeming her absolutely impeccable, she leaned close and give her a loving kiss on the forehead.

"Don't be afraid to want things, cariño," she then whispered into her ear before withdrawing.

Raquel was not completely sure what she meant by that, but she nodded and smiled nevertheless. 

She grabbed her mask and turned to Ángel who was already awkwardly shuffling his feet.

"Let's go have one hell of a night."

* * *

They spent good 40 minutes driven by a frustratingly mute chauffeur until they finally reached the destination; an absolutely gorgeous spot by the waterside with a candle-lit path snaking down towards the shore. And that was not even the end of it. As they were guided down, she saw that the candles lead to a dock where there were small boats waiting for them. They would be rowed to the final locale, wherever it was.

Raquel did not recognize the place they were in at all which was probably the point. No one would find their way here without a guide. It was the best possible arrangement for her sake, but still, she found it hard to let go of the sense of control she usually wanted to have in every aspect of her life. 

As she settled into the boat under the starry sky, she closed her eyes and made a solemn decision to allow the night to take her where it took her.

"You okay?" asked Ángel next to her.

"Just a little nervous."

"Yeah, I hate boats as well," he replied and pushed his hands in his pockets, looking determined not to enjoy himself one bit until his feet were safely back on the ground again. 

Not too much later they saw the opposing shore. Guests who had already made their landing there helped others to exit their boats as well. One of the men absent-mindedly extended his hand for Raquel to grasp when her and Ángel's boat thudded against the dock. 

Raquel rose from her seat to take it, but just then the boat quaked under her feet and she stumbled forward.

Before she could plant herself face-first on the dock or plunge into the water, however, the man grabbed her. An arm wound around her waist and another over her shoulders. All of a sudden she was pressed against a tall, broad-shouldered stranger and a gasp tumbled from her lips in reaction.

For one heartbeat, her whole world consisted of his strong arms around her, holding her close, and the relief of getting caught by him. She looked up to meet his gaze.

He was wearing a mask just like everyone here, a white plain one that covered his whole face. On his head, he had a hat that reminded Raquel of one a musketeer might wear, with a large red feather and all. The only part visible of the man himself was his brown, startled eyes.

He seemed almost shocked as he looked down at her which Raquel found odd. She had not made that big of an idiot of herself to warrant dismay, had she?

The look in his eyes then transmuted into something completely different as his gaze swept over her whole body this time, and Raquel felt pleasant warmth creep up her cheeks. Her night couldn't be off to a too bad of a start if someone this handsome already took notice of her. 

She became acutely aware of his fingers on her silk-covered skin. His touch was making heat pool in other places' than her face, and Raquel found herself swallowing.

He only woke up from his trance and let go of her once Ángel cleared his throat rather pointedly.

"Thank you," Raquel breathed out, offered him a small smile, and walked off to where Ángel was waiting for her.

She grabbed his arm and swung herself to his side, beaming. The giddy excitement building inside her and the attention from the mysterious stranger had left her in high spirits.

"What are you waiting for? Let's get our move on."

Ángel grinned in response and began leading her forward. "I really, really hope this whole thing is not going to be some _Eyes Wide Shut_ kind of a deal," he said, adjusting his mask.

"You should have said something, I specifically requested that whole treatment for you," Raquel said, and they both laughed as they walked on.

* * *

What she didn't see was the man who had caught her ripping off his mask and turning to stare after her with wide eyes or the expression on his face as he saw Raquel take Ángel's arm, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this mysterious gentleman? What exactly was Andrés' plan? Leave your guesses in the comments down below. 
> 
> I am about 80% there is not a large enough body of water near Madrid to support their little boat trip, or an island in the middle of that body of water where they could have this ball, but suspend your sense of disbelief for the sake of my romantic sensibilities haha.
> 
> Hold onto your masks for good old masquerade fun in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel meets a stranger at a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic keeps getting so many comments I don't know what to do with them all other than stare at them in awe and squeal in excitement. Every time I try to reply to them, my treacherous brain decides you would rather want me working on the next chapter than answering you. I'll try to change that because I really want you to know just how much I appreciate all of you!
> 
> Thank you from bottom of my heart to Ziyal_Lia for beta-ing this chapter and making it so perfect. YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE BLESSING!
> 
> Apologies to Kenneth Branagh for shamelessly borrowing a line from his film Cinderella (2015). It was too perfect not to use.

Ángel's fears about what the night ahead would entail abated as soon as they arrived inside the beautiful pavilion.

There were no people writhing on the floor in Eyes Wide shut type orgies nor were there any elaborate sex rituals in sight. Instead, they only saw a dimly lit and absolutely gorgeous ballroom with an arched glass ceiling that was partially covered with massive drapes of cream-colored cloth. The ground floor level was filled with flowers and miniature trees adorned with shimmery lights. It was like something out of a storybook.

Ángel did not participate in marveling at the venue, only warily eyeing the other guests who were already dancing and mingling amongst each other.

"I am still not convinced this mask thing is not a weird kink of someone's. Who knows about the rich and famous?" he grumbled.

"Oh Ángel, I am sure no one will try to lure you into some dark room and have their way with you tonight," Raquel joked, not wanting to admit she herself was beginning to feel a little unsure about the masks, as pretty as they were. She could not recognize anyone here. She would have more luck finding a needle in a haystack than Silene and her friends.

She did not ruminate about this problem for too long, determined to enjoy herself. She dragged Ángel with her to examine the venue further, her eyes drifting from the live orchestra on a special stage to the bar where bartenders were pouring glasses of champagne from almost the height of a meter.

But what she loved the most were the dancing couples on the floor. The way they moved was so elegant yet so carefree. No one was expecting them to dance like they were performing for someone, which took off the stiffness and formality she sometimes observed when watching ballroom dancing. These people were simply having fun.

She was really hoping she would get to have a turn at the dancefloor at some point as well, but she was not sure how much she wanted to dance with Ángel, and it was unlikely she would get another partner.

Perhaps she would simply have to resign herself to watching the others tonight.

They wandered together around the room, Raquel feeling blind as a bat in the sea of masks, when the universe finally took mercy on her and someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Raquel turned around and was faced with a scrappy-looking young masked man smiling at her. For the life of her, she couldn't say who he was despite him obviously knowing her. 

She had always been terrible at those magazine quizzes where you had to guess which celebrity mouth, nose, or eyes belonged to whom. One time she didn't even recognize her own chin and lips.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" he asked and lifted the mask to reveal the beaming face of Silene's boyfriend. "It's me, Aníbal!"

"Oh, of course it is!" she exclaimed and gave him a big hug, feeling rather silly that she had not recognized him based on his voice alone. She really was bad at this.

She introduced Ángel to him which was the only moment when the boy’s smile wavered, and he looked confused at his presence for a second. But as quickly as it had disappeared, the grin was back on his face in full force.

"I am so glad you could come. Silene was almost convinced you'd chicken out at the last minute."

"How could I? After all she did for me?"

Aníbal only gave her a blank look at that, making her suspect that he did not know about the gown. She brushed the topic off.

"Where is she? I need to congratulate and thank her."

"She is doing shots in the kitchen. A huge party and alcohol is basically the only way she'll get through her birthdays."

"Ah."

"But I am sure she and the others will be here soon. In the meanwhile, would you like to take a turn with me on the dance floor? That is what this ball is for, after all."

His boyish smile was rather winning, and Raquel found her lips tugging upwards as well. However, just when she was about to grant her approval, Ángel spoke up.

"Actually, I am afraid my date has promised the first dance to me."

_ What? _

Aníbal swallowed his disappointment graciously. "Very well. I won't keep you from it then.” He turned to look at Raquel. “Come find us later?"

And just like that, the boy was gone before Raquel had even recovered from her bewilderment at what had just happened. She was still speechless when Ángel took her hand with a shy smile and led her to the dance floor.

Only when he grabbed her waist and began waltzing with her did she finally regain her faculties.

"What was that?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone but kept her face neutral, acutely aware that her mask hid only half of her face. They were swaying amongst other couples who just wanted to have a good time, after all.

Ángel merely chuckled in response. "You are welcome."

"I am  _ welcome _ ?”

He arched one eyebrow. "Don't tell me you actually wanted to dance with some snot-faced lordling like him? The guy barely looked out of diapers—"

"Lordling? He works in IT!"

"Really?" asked Ángel, fascinated. "Is that like a charity thing for him or something?"

"No he is not—God, Ángel, you have no business refusing dances on my behalf, no matter who asks."

Angel looked genuinely confused at her reaction. "I am sorry, I thought I was doing you a favor. It is kinda us against the world in this place, after all. This is as far from our scene as it can get."

"What do you mean this is our my scene?"

He let out a bashful chuckle at that. "You know what I mean. You are the rockstar Raquel Murillo, not some party princess. You cannot possibly find all this luster and glitz shit appealing, can you?”

"And how do you know that is what I think?"

"C'mon, Raquel. Just because you sang at one party and got invited here does not mean you suddenly belong."

He said it so decisively while looking at her that Raquel grew self-conscious, feeling momentarily like a little girl wearing her mother's too-big heels. But she quickly shook off that feeling. The last thing she wanted was to feel uncomfortable in her own skin during her one night off.

"I suppose not, but I'm not gonna let that stop me from having a little fun," she said, though her mood was already a little dampened.

"I will make sure you do," Ángel said and spun her around. Raquel found herself smiling a little. If nothing else, at least she would get to dance.

* * *

Without Aníbal's help, it took longer than she would have liked to find Silene, but through trial and error, she managed to track down Ágata who then led her to the others. Besides Aníbal, Ágata, and Silene, there were Ricardo, Monica, and Agustín, and even Yashin and Radko who were not on duty tonight. Only Andrés was missing.

Her spirits were lifted when they all brightened up after seeing her and greeted her with as much enthusiasm as they would a long-missed friend. She was instantly glad she had decided to come despite Ángel's comments. It was not a crime to seek out new experiences, was it? 

Everyone in the gang was all just as surprised as Aníbal to be introduced to Ángel, but they treated him politely and tried to engage him in a conversation. But Ángel remained almost stubbornly mute, and Raquel found herself wondering whether he felt nervous or insecure in front of the King's closest circle. 

"That is a gorgeous gown. You are almost putting the birthday girl to shame," commented Silene wryly.

"It is only thanks to you. And don't even think about not accepting this back after the night is over."

"I haven't got the faintest what you are talking about."

That was when Ricardo stumbled into their conversation. He was unnaturally cheerful, suggesting that he had had his fair share of Silene's birthday shots.

"Raquel, you look amazing!" he exclaimed loudly.

"Oh, thank you," Raquel said, sensing Ángel stiffen by her side.

"If only Sergio could only be here tonight! He would shit himself if she saw you now, but he'd also be beyond gutted that you have a boyfriend—"

The rest of his words were quelled when his wife jabbed him in the ribs.

Raquel felt suddenly very embarrassed. Remarks like these made her painfully self-conscious of the little thoughts she had entertained about Sergio's regard for her, before she had stomped all those to death weeks ago. 

"Sergio? As in King Sergio II?“ asked Ángel, frowning.

Raquel's 'Ángel is about to act like an ass' senses started tingling. Before any of them could answer, Raquel lowered her hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go get something to drink," she said, guiding him gently away.

Reluctantly, he went with her, but his expression was still one of doubt and confusion. 

"What the hell kind of comment was that?" he muttered. " _ The King would be gutted that you had a boyfriend _ . Why would he care? I doubt he would even remember meeting mere mortals such as you and me."

Raquel couldn't help but bristle at that, her pride wounded. "It is just a joke. Why does it bother you so much?" 

"It doesn't," he said, and then immediately started on the subject again. "Doesn't he have a girlfriend anyway—"

That was when they were accosted yet again.

"Raquel! You look absolutely ravishing!" called out a voice from behind them. Raquel turned around to look at the man who had addressed her, but even after a few seconds of staring at him, she was none the wiser as to who he was. She really wasn't managing well with all these masks.

The masked stranger was only revealed as Andrés as he grabbed her hand and pressed a rather bombastic kiss on her knuckles. "I must convey the most sincere apologies on behalf of my brother. I am sure he would have moved his trip in order to be here if he had known you would grace us with your presence tonight," he said, his voice as smooth as silk.

She could not see Ángel's face right now, but she just knew a vein had to be throbbing on his forehead. She tensed, unable to offer any kind of response to Andrés’ gracious words

Fortunately, he was not fazed by her lack of answer and moved on with the protocol. "And who might this be?" he asked, extending his hand.

“Oh, this is—"

"I am her date," Ángel said gruffly, making no effort to shake Andrés' hand.

While the others had shown mild confusion on their faces as Ángel had been introduced to them, Ándres looked blatantly shocked. After his initial wide-eyed expression of surprise, Raquel could see a deep furrow appear in his brow just above his mask, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It looked like the cogs in his head were working overtime to explain the sight in front of him. 

"I see," he said, still looking less than pleased before turning back to Raquel, his lips lifting a little.

"Might I steal you away for one dance, Raquel?"

Before Raquel could even consider that request, Ángel answered for her.

"Well, we were just about to get some drinks, so..." 

Andrés' expression was now tight enough to crack a nutshell with the sheer force of his gaze. 

"I believe the lady can answer for herself," he said coolly.

Ángel then glanced at her with a  _ Can you believe this guy? _ look in his eyes. 

Raquel was furious at Ángel's behavior, but she had no desire to start fighting with him in front of the King's brother. So she forced an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry. Maybe later?"

Andrés flashed her a charming smirk. "Until then."

The second the man was out of earshot, Raquel opened her mouth to give Ángel a piece of her mind, but he beat her to it.

"Jesus Christ, Raquel, are you sleeping with everyone here?"

" _ Excuse me _ ?"

He made a dismissive hand gesture. "I'm just joking. But seriously, I don't like how these people act around you at all. Just weeks before you were nothing to them, and now they think you are the most fascinating person in the universe. There is something very perverse about it."

"They have been nothing but kind! It is you who—"

"Can't you see what is happening, Raquel? They are turning you into their little pet. Someone they can dress up and invite to fancy balls and marvel together at how cute you are."

"Ángel—"

"Didn't they give that gown to you?"

She knew her new friends had just been kind when they had invited her and lent her that gown, but Ángel had a way of making it all sound so ugly that she couldn't help but feel embarrassed about accepting the gift and coming here. Like she was playing some ridiculous game of dress-up fantasy.

She inwardly shook her head. No. Ángel did not get to decide what she was and was not.

She was just about to tell him that in a strong turn of phrase when a sudden stir went through the room at something happening near the back wall. Raquel turned to look at where everyone's eyes were directed and saw that the gentleman who had caught her at the dock was standing in front of Silene. Her focus instantly sharpened.

He had lifted his mask and Silene was staring at him with her hand covering her mouth, beaming, but Raquel could only see his back. She was suddenly very jealous of the people standing behind Silene who were gaping at him with wide eyes.  _ Who was he? _

To her disappointment, the mysterious man let the mask snap back on his face. In the very next moment, he gestured up towards the ceiling. Ropes were pulled by the staff, the cream-colored drapes were lowered and in an instant, a sea of silver balloons started floating down the room.

Raquel couldn't stop the gasp of wonder that tumbled from her lips. It was so beautiful, and not only because of the balloons. Looking at the people's faces, it felt like someone had poured liquid joy into the room. 

Silene seemed just as affected because she was now hugging the stranger, hard.

She followed the balloons descending to the ground and watched as other guests marveled at them with a smile on her face, until her trance was broken by a loud sound. It made her turn around with a start.

One balloon had landed near Ángel's foot and he had proceeded to let the air out of it by stomping on it. At the same time, he was rolling his eyes.

"And I didn't think this could turn any tackier. Balloons. Is your friend turning five? Then again, I am not surprised that people here are suckers for this sort of stuff."

Red-hot shame flooded into her chest. The derision in his voice was as palpable as a slap on her skin.

But maybe Ángel had a point. She must have looked ridiculous, gawking at those balloons.

_ Ridiculous woman,  _ echoed a male voice in her head

Ángel stepped closer to her, but she was too immersed in a memory that had been triggered by her subconscious that she did not realize it was him at first. She instinctively flinched away from him, causing Ángel to frown

Raquel instantly felt embarrassed. Ángel was not Alberto. She needed to get a grip. 

"Hey, don't give me that face," Ángel said, mistaking her reaction as defiance. "You know I am just looking out for you."

"Yeah but—"

"C'mon, let's just get those drinks. If there is nothing else worthwhile here, at least there is free alcohol," Ángel said, already setting his course towards the bar where the waiters were refilling the glasses of the guests.

Raquel had no choice but to follow, feeling like someone had just set a heavy, wet blanket over her shoulders.

* * *

As the night wore on and the more alcohol Ángel consumed, the more irritable he became and the more derisive his comments about everything around him grew. Sitting next to him meant subjecting herself to an endless torrent of complaints and self-pity which was frankly, unbearable after a while, but Raquel could not find it in herself to move anywhere else either. Anything else she could possibly do, outside of keeping Ángel company, seemed silly and fanciful.

Going back to the others? Ángel would sneer at her and make another awful comment about her being just some plaything to them. Getting to know the other guests? She was just forcing herself where she did not belong. Dancing with someone... anyone? She would be just indulging in some ridiculous pretense that she was someone else, someone that did not look like a clown in this dress.

Minute by minute, that imaginary blanket around just seemed to grow heavier and heavier until its suffocating weight was impossible to get rid of.

"I know you'd rather hang out with your new elite friends than sit here with me," he moaned again, his voice full of self-deprecation.

Raquel had no energy to even try to muster an answer anymore. However, her apathy only fed into Ángel's ire.

"Go on then," he began loudly, making such a grandiose gesture with his hand that he knocked his drink off their table and it tumbled onto the ground, spilling its contents in every direction. "Just leave me. You would have much more fun doing whatever you came here to do. Twirl a little on that dance floor. Maybe you'll catch some nobleman's eye. He would be nothing compared to the King, of course, but in his absence any other blue blood will do." 

"Fuck you."

Mocking her because of Sergio was the last straw. Raquel couldn't take it anymore. She sprang up from the table and began marching away, a burning sensation already swelling behind her eyelids.

She pushed her way through the crowd. There were too many unfamiliar faces, too many people who were from a completely different world than hers. She had to get out.

She fled through the nearest door and slammed it shut behind her. She found herself in some sort of cloakroom, though her vision was too misty to determine much else about it. It was simply a glorified dark closet. Perfect for her current situation. 

She collapsed on the bench in the corner and before she even knew it, her eyes were wet with tears

Raquel was a reasonable, mature woman who knew she had to reserve a regular time slot for crying it all out, so it wouldn’t pour out all at once, but it had been far too long since the last time and now that she had started, it would be impossible to stop. The tears dripped down her cheeks in hushed, choked sobs as she tried to keep quiet. She removed her mask, so that she could carefully dry each wet streak before it ruined her make-up. But the wetness gathered fast and her vision blurred, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

She shouldn't have come here. What was she thinking?

She was not the kind of person who attended masquerade balls and wore gowns like this. She was a single mother who was lucky enough to scrape together enough money with her singing for her court fees.

She felt completely and utterly ridiculous. Ridiculous for accepting the invitation, ridiculous for consorting with the King's closest friends, ridiculous for locking eyes with him 15 years ago and thinking that — that

An overpowering wave of self-loathing took over her, and she had to clamp her hand on her mouth in order not to let out the heart-wrenching sob that was building up inside her.

She shouldn't have even agreed to go to the palace to sing for him, in the first place. She was not the kind of artist who got to do that sort of thing. That alone had been her greatest act of delusion.

She was nothing.

She spent a good while sobbing into her hands before she noticed it. Her eyes swept past her hem, and then again, after she'd wiped her eyes and taken a closer look.

There was a wine stain right above the hemline. It must have gotten there as Ángel had spilled his drink.

That was what was missing in today's chain of misery: a stain on the gown she would never be able to pay back.

She quickly dug up a napkin from her purse and bent down to furiously rub at the spot. But despite her best, most desperate efforts, the stain only seemed to spread and turn darker the more she scrubbed it. Even more vicious tears started burning behind her eyelids.

As she was scrubbing at the hem and sniffling, she heard the sound of the door opening. Someone had entered the room. She immediately turned her head away and started wiping her tear-streaked cheeks dry before fixing her mask back on her face. It was embarrassing enough to be caught hiding in this dark room, but crying here alone? That was humiliating beyond anything. She was an adult woman, not a heartsick teenager.

"I am sorry to intrude ," said an unfamiliar voice.

Raquel looked up and saw a man standing in the doorway. To her surprise, she saw that it was the same man who had caught her by the dock and who had hugged Silene. He stood awkwardly by the door, as if not daring to come any closer.

"I saw you running here, upset, and I just had to see whether you were alright," the man said, his voice low. Almost strangely so, as if he was making it lower than it really was.

Then again, she had seen too many operas not to believe in the existence of men with bass voices.

"I am fine," she said weakly, sounding everything but. She turned her face away again.

"Are you sure?"

This time, his voice had morphed into something so soft and kind that Raquel felt tears burn behind her eyelids again at the mere sound of it.

She swallowed back the sob in her throat and tried a smile.

She was meant to assure him again that she was alright, but wholly other words came out instead.

"Actually, I am a little overwhelmed," she admitted and felt instantly a hint lighter as she saw him absorb the words. He seemed like the kind of a person who she could tell at least the partial truth to. "But it's okay. I'm just not used to these sorts of things. "

"To be honest, me neither," he said and tilted his head bashfully. "It is rather stressful out there. All that dancing and partying... I'm actually jealous that you found this hideout first."

She cracked a genuine smile at that. It was an amusing thought, such an imposing man fleeing from the crowd.

Raquel bent down to point at her hem, letting out a half a chuckle, half a sniffle. "And look. I spilled something on my hem. Isn't that just proof that I am not made to wear dresses like this."

"I would claim the very opposite."

The softly murmured words did not quite grab Raquel's attention as she was too busy panicking over the stain once again. She would never be able to afford even the laundry of this gown. God, she should never have come

She looked up to see the man staring at the glass in his hands thoughtfully

“Actually, I think I might be able to help you. May I?" he asked, gesturing towards her hem. Raquel nodded, not exactly knowing what she was agreeing to before she witnessed the man kneel in front of her.

He reached for her hem, and a minuscule thrill jolted through her at his proximity. She quickly suppressed it, however, and tried to remain unmoved.

He then did what she least expected and chucked the contents of his glass on the fabric.

"It is soda water. It should push the stain through the fabric," he explained. “Do you happen to have any hairspray in your purse?"

Raquel did happen to have a tiny bottle of hairspray with her and the man applied it liberally on the stain.

"There. Just keep still for 10 minutes or so. It is only a tiny stain and hopefully you'll be able to get it off if you soak the hem in as hot as water possible when you get home."

"You're quite the miracle worker," Raquel said, smiling down at him. "Is that why you are here? The paramedic for ruined gowns?"

"I'd describe myself as more of an errand boy," he said with a shrug, and Raquel's smile only grew wider.

"Is there anything more I can do for you?" he asked with an overly chivalrous tone that made her release a chuckle through her tears. Then he added in a more serious tone, “You are certain that you are fine?”

"I am. I just need a little breather from it all. At least until the hairspray has worked its magic."

"In that case, I'll get out of your hair," he said, rising back up. "Get back out there, to the shark-infested waters."

"If you want…" Raquel began before he was completely back on his feet, causing him to halt in a rather ridiculous fashion mid-air. He tilted his head expectantly which she found rather endearing.

"…you could stay. You look like you could use a break too," she finished.

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course," she said, smiling.

He looked genuinely surprised at that which only made Raquel's fondness for the stranger grow. There was something in his sweet awkwardness that reminded her of Sergio. She might have even suspected it was him if she had not seen with her own eyes a news headline about the King having left for the US earlier that day.

No, this was simply some other, rather awkward but charming gentleman. Maybe these sort of social circles were brimming with them which was probably a bad thing. Raquel did not care to explore whether she had a type.

The man sat himself next to her, the abundance of her skirts brushing against his side. He did not seem to mind.

"Anything in particular you're hiding from?" Raquel asked with barely concealed curiosity laced in her voice.

"There are so many people who want to dance," he answered with a shudder. "With me."

Raquel released a loud laugh at that which made his eyes widen. She couldn’t help it. She’d expected his reason for fleeing to be just an inch more serious than that.

"Oh you poor thing… I wish I had that problem."

"It really is torturous. I'm rather bad at it," the man felt the need to clarify.

"Oh, I am the same. Ballroom dancing is not something I have gotten to practice a lot over the years."

"No, you don't understand. I am  _ atrocious _ . I am so bad they would ban me from clubs if it were legal to discriminate against someone based on skill.”

The man looked genuinely so distressed at the thought of his own dancing that she couldn't help but smile, which she tried to hide with her hand clamped on her mouth. It must look completely rude to him, but it was impossible to keep her mirth from peeking through her fingers. She had had so little joy tonight that this seemed like the most delightful thing she had heard all week.

"If I had a flock of ardent admirers I would be dancing anyway," Raquel chuckled. "That is the fun in masquerade balls is all about, isn't it? Not knowing who your partner is, not caring about whether you'll embarrass yourself or not."

"I suppose you are right," he said, rubbing his neck. Then his eyes clouded with confusion. "

Does that mean you don't have any dance partners?"

Raquel let out an incredulous snort.

"Does it look like I have?"

"Well, I saw you with that one gentleman and I thought…”

"Have you been watching me? she asked, a hint of mirth in her voice.

The man tried to answer, but out came only an incomprehensible stammer instead. Just witnessing him dissolve into a nervous mess made amusement bubble inside her, but she was also growing curious at the same time. Why exactly had he been looking at her? 

"Er, I would call something more like 'casually glimpsing your way every now and then," he finally managed to sputter out.

"And why, my mysterious gentleman did you happen to casually glimpse my way every now and then?" she teased.

He took one breathless look at her and tilted his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" he croaked out.

Heat instantly rushed to her cheeks as she understood what he was trying to say.

She didn't know what she had expected, but certainly not being singled out from the crowd by anyone. At the dock, she had been flattered when he'd looked at her, but the thought of his gaze still straying to her throughout the night was too immense to comprehend. She was not worth that much attention.

It had been years when a man had this blatantly shown interest in her, and she didn't know what to do. A part of her, a dominant one, rejected the thought like oil water. She had to deflect.

"You remembered me from earlier and wanted to see how I would embarrass myself this time?" Raquel joked.

The man's brow knotted.

"No, of course not."

"Or perhaps it is because-"

"You are beautiful," he stated before she could finish. Gone from his voice was the bashfulness from the way of determination. He truly and firmly wanted her to know this.

Her mental state was pitiable enough for the compliment rustled past her ears like mere wind.

"You are only saying that because you caught me crying," she said weakly, but tried still to smile to let him know his words were appreciated. It was a quivering smile, the one person had on seconds before they burst into tears which her companion noticed and hurried to speak up.

"No, actually. I only said it to flatter you into allowing me to stay for a moment longer. I truly am afraid, you see, and your goodwill is all I have left."

That made Raquel let out a laugh which in turn made the man's eyes brighten with happiness.

"You did help me with my dress… Perhaps I will return the favor by acting as your bodyguard when you go back there. Protect you from all those too-enthusiastic admirers. I once trained to be a cop, you know. I still have some moves left."

Raquel couldn't see his mouth from underneath the mask, but from his eyes even in the dim lighting of the room, she knew he was smiling.

"Oh no, you shouldn't waste your evening batting away other ladies. You should be dancing and enjoying yourself."

Raquel let out a deep sigh and looked down at her lap. "I am afraid that won't be my lot tonight. I picked the wrong plus one for that."

She could feel his gaze on her for the longest time before he wordlessly stood up.

Raquel thought he'd finally grown tired of her pity party and was about to leave so she lowered her gaze on the floor in order not to witness him go. But then a pair of fine, gleaming slippers appeared at the spot she was staring at and she looked up to see the mysterious gentleman standing in front of her, his hand extended.

"My lady, could I have the honor of-" he stumbled a little with his words and started again. " _ May _ I have the honor of…"

"Are you asking me to dance?" she interrupted, shocked.

As his answer, he simply nodded.

"But I thought you didn't want to dance," she breathed out.

"I am afraid I have already committed to the task of improving your evening after helping you out with your gown. I have no other choice but to continue on this path lest I will be a laughingstock at the end of the night in the gentleman pageant."

"Oh, I'd hate to let that happen," Raquel said with a light tone, but with the rejection teetering on the tip of her tongue.

But then he continued, with a more serious tone.

“And you… you are the only woman I could imagine myself dancing with.”

A pleasant warmth settled on her cheeks. She knew this was done out of pity, but she couldn't help but feel flattered that this handsome gentleman would go out of his way to make her feel better even if it meant dancing and snubbing all the blue-blooded ladies from the ballroom for the sake a woman found sobbing in the cloakroom.

"Is that a yes?"

A memory of Ángel's disapproving look floated into her mind. She dispersed it like an image in a puddle that was stomped by a foot. She would let his words hold power over her for the rest of tonight.

As her answer, she grasped his offered hand.

* * *

When he led her back to the ballroom with her hand in his, strangely enough, everyone's eyes turned to them. What was even more peculiar was that more than one pair halted in the middle of their glide along the dance floor just to gape at them. It was like someone had shone a spotlight on her.  _ Had she ruined her gown worse than she thought? _

But the gentleman leading her did not seem to pay any mind to it. His gaze was strictly on her and did not stray until they had found themselves a good spot in the middle and his eyes started flickering awkwardly toward the orchestra. Some of the musicians seemed a little distracted as well after finishing the last piece and they were struggling to start a new one.

Raquel did not let the waiting time be awkward, however. She gave him an encouraging smile, hoping to ease his nerves. Something that said  _ don’t worry, she was just as bad at this as him _ . They would make fools of themselves together.

The way his gaze grew warm made her feel her assurance was appreciated.

"I think it goes something like this," he said and took hold of her. Raquel had been on the verge of shooting something teasing back at him the second the words had left his mouth, but she suddenly found herself unable to do so. Instead, a soft gasp tumbled from her lips. Suddenly there was a broad hand resting on the small of her back and another encircling her wrist

He started to slowly move with her. The mere feel of his fingertips over her clothed skin ignited sparks that made her simultaneously tingle and ache all over. If it weren't for that sensation, Raquel would have been far more conscious of the weight of everyone's gaze on their every motion. Hardly anyone else was dancing.

"They are all looking at you," she whispered.

"Oh believe me, it is not me they are looking at," he replied softly, his eyes never leaving hers as they danced.

He was slightly slow and clumsy in his movements, that she had to admit but she did not mind. His hesitance allowed for her ease into the unfamiliar steps of the dance at a leisure space and when he finally gained confidence, so did she.

Raquel felt herself relax, almost as if something intoxicating was coursing into her veins the more they stared at each other. Her limbs felt suddenly loose and shaky. She took one faltering step towards him and released a nervous giggle as he tightened his grip of her waist to prevent her from stumbling.

Her fingers entwined tightly with his and her hand fell to clutch at his shoulder for support, and suddenly they were so close the air in the room felt significantly warmer than moments before.

"I thought you were supposed to be better than me," he teased, somewhat breaking the tension.

"Oh, don't start on that path, mister. I am counting at least three times you have trodden on my feet and-"

Before she could finish, the man twirled her around and her breath was stolen. He drew her back towards him, and she tried to speak again, her cheeks burning, but before she could get out even a single word he twirled her around again so that she couldn't finish her criticism of his dancing. Raquel couldn't help but laugh, especially when he once again stepped on her feet as he brought her back to him.

"You suck," she accused, still giggling. "Is this your first time ever dancing?"

"Actually now that I think about..." the man said, bumping into another pair. An older gentleman turned his head to give them a side eye, but ended up blinking at them in astonishment instead for some reason.

"Now you're making us purposefully look bad!"

"Am I now?"

Raquel smacked him on the arm. "Jerk, you know exactly what you are doing."

"Hey, I am making you smile, aren't I?"

"You're more so making me wonder whether I’ll think twice the next time you ask me to dance."

"I don’t think you will," the man said with a grin in his voice and suddenly dipped her down, losing Raquel to another fit of giggles. In vain she tried to sort out the strands escaping from her hairdo as he wrenched her back up.

"You're so going to pay for this. I look ridiculous."

"Hmm. On the contrary."

There was something very nice in the way he was looking at her right now. Something far too nice judging by the bats of butterfly wings in the bottom of her stomach. Blood rushed into her cheeks and she had to look away. It was just a simple dance. Nothing she should let get to her head.

As the last notes drifted in the air, she considered excusing herself just so that she could chase away some of the bewildering fog that had taken over her thoughts. But she didn't. For some reason she couldn't quite break away from this man.  The song morphed into the next one and she only wanted to stay like this as long as she could.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, drawing her so close his breath brushed her neck. She shivered.

“More than okay,” she answered shakily.

The more he touched her, the more light-headed she felt. If she had known how it would feel she would not have let him hesitate before leading her to dance and instead, she would have planted his hands straight on her body. The gentleman seemed to approve of this idea too because his grip only tightened as if he was afraid that she would slip from his fingers. It was curious that a dance could make them feel so strongly, although for some strange reason it felt more than a dance.

This time the man swayed with her at a languid pace, not attempting any tricks to make her laugh, wanting to just dance with her. Raquel’s eyes fell shut. The rest of the world was only a faint shadow in the corner of her mind as she let herself be lulled by the music and the feel of his arms around her.

There was honey coursing through her veins and stars in her fingertips as she let him glide her across the dance floor. With her eyes closed, it was like they were flying. Happiness washed over her like a river as he held onto the small of her back carefully, like she was something precious. The air felt thick with something that could be described as smoke; but not the dark kind of smoke that made your eyes water and your lungs burn up. No, it was something sweet. Something that expanded your airways and made everything look golden and beautiful.

She opened her eyes and saw that his gaze was fixed on hers. He was looking at her in such a fervent way that her heart started beating faster in her chest.

There was something familiar in those dark brown depths. She recalled having been stared like this before by a man with eyes like this, but her thoughts fogged more the closer he held her and she could not quite pinpoint the memory

They were so absorbed in each other that without realizing, Raquel had treaded on some stranger's hem. She let out a flustered apology and turned to her partner with an embarrassed smile to see that his eyes had crinkled into little laughing slits. Only then did she realize it.

The man's eyes were amazingly similar to the King’s.

The notion immediately made her face burn up and she had to look away in order not to betray what she had just thought. Could she not look at any kind stranger anymore without thinking about  _ him _ ? Was she in that much trouble?

It was not fair to her dance partner to think back to the affectionate way another man had once looked at her. She was supposed to be here to forget him, not try to find him in other people's eyes. From now on, she would chase him from her mind, no matter how many reminders came her way.

She let herself once again melt in the man’s arms, not caring about the rest of the world or the memories haunting her. She concentrated on the way his hand felt on her back and how light and happy she felt as he turned with her and her skirts flared with the motion. She let herself enjoy how warm her skin felt when his gaze lingered on her bare shoulders and did not look away when his eyes fixed on her lips..

But that sweet trance was soon interrupted by a rude wake-up call from reality. As she looked over her partner's shoulder, she saw that Ángel was weaving his way through the crowd. He had a drink in his hand and looked like he wanted to exchange some pointed words with the man who was dancing with his date.

Raquel knew in her bones he would cause a scene if she let him reach them and the imminent humiliation already chilled her heart. She buried her face in her partner's chest half in embarrassment, half for cover.

"Get me out of here," she whispered.

It took less than a second for the gentleman to realize what was going on. He took one look at Ángel, then at Raquel and nodded. He grabbed her hand with a solemn expression on his face.

"Follow me."

As they ran together, hand in hand, Raquel felt oddly like they were naughty school children fleeing from the wrath of the headmaster, so absurd the situation. It was not helped by the expression on her savior's face when they finally made it outside.

His face was glowing both from the dance and the pride of having successfully stolen her away. He truly looked like a ruddy-cheeked boy who had just gotten away with swiping a lollipop, and Raquel almost felt like laughing.

But at the same time, there was deep concern in his eyes which made her feel weary. He deserved an explanation. But now she just wanted to relish in her freedom for a moment.

_ Thank you _ , she said by squeezing his fingers. A moment later, he squeezed hers back.

* * *

"I think… I think I might have the problem of attracting far too similar men into my life," she admitted after they had spent some time walking in silence on the island cliffs outside. The view was breathtaking, the starry sky above them, and gentle waves crashing against the shore, and for a while, she had just been content to admire it all with the mysterious stranger by her side. It was easy to just be silent with him but at the same, she felt the desire to open up with the confidence that he would listen and be gentle with her.

"Are you talking about—"

"My date for tonight, yes." She lowered her head in shame. "I should have known better than to bring him here. He can get jealous and controlling, and it reminds me far too much of someone I'd rather forget. It frightens me how affected I was by his behavior tonight which is silly because I know he's not a bad person, but still…"

"It is not your fault that he made you feel this way. That is entirely on him," he said with a somewhat dark edge in his voice. He seemed to have grown almost unsettled after hearing her words, barely even looking at her. Raquel hoped he did not think differently of her because of this.

"Yes, I'm trying to tell myself that but then again… what if he is right? What if I am just fooling myself by being here? What if I am really just a person who doesn't deserve nice things?"

He turned to her with a flash of infinite sadness in his eyes. It made her chest shrink.

That is not true," he rasped out. "You have every right to be here."

"Yes, I know," Raquel sighed. "But this gown for example, I don't even remotely-"

"That gown does not make up even the one thousandth of all what you deserve."

Raquel let out a little snort at that.

"You don't believe me," the man observed calmly.

"No, I don't believe you have some sort of a list in your head of the things I deserve," she said with a weak chuckle.  _ Why would he _ ? 

"You'd be surprised."

His voice was so soft and earnest that Raquel almost believed he was serious at first. But then she remembered they had literally just met, and as charming and good-hearted this man appeared to be, his concern for her could only be surface-level at best. And that was okay. Raquel did not mind just being some pretty lady he wanted to make smile tonight.

"My god, you are the most horrible flatterer," she murmured, giving him a weak smile.

He looked a little sad at that judgment but accepted it with a graceful nod of defeat.

"As long as you don't think I resemble those other men in your life you were talking about, I will take that."

"No, you're as far from them as can be," Raquel said emphatically. "You're a model specimen."

He really was. She could also have called him a prince straight out of a storybook, but admitting that aloud would have been too embarrassing and would definitely have outed her as someone who was far too accustomed to poor treatment from men

But ruminations over her sad life were hardly what she wanted to occupy herself with now. She pushed the thought aside and attempted a proper smile. 

"Except for one thing," she began with a teasing tone. The man blinked.

"You have not once asked what my name is this whole night, and I cannot help but think it very rude."

"I haven't," he said, more as a startled, embarrassed statement than a question." I…"

"It's okay, she laughed before he could apologize. "I actually quite prefer it this way. A chance encounter at a masquerade ball, a dance, and a midnight stroll without ever even knowing your name. It is rather romantic, isn't it? I'm half-expecting you to vanish in a puff of smoke at the stroke of midnight like in some fairytale."

He stared at her for a while after this, some notion she couldn't quite define flickering in his eyes until finally a resigned sigh escaped from his lips.

"That might not be too far from the truth, actually," he said and glanced at his watch.

Raquel turned to him with a questioning look in her eyes.

"I have a flight leaving at 4 am this morning. I cannot stay here for too long," he explained. "Actually I was supposed to leave an hour ago."

"Oh?" she was not able to restrain a tiny sliver of disappointment from creeping into her voice. She did not want him to leave and she did not want their time together to end. Not just yet.

As if having read her thoughts, the man's eyes softened.

"I still have time. And I am planning to spend it with you."

Raquel looked away with a pleased blush on her cheeks. It was quite flattering, being the reason someone was procrastinating leaving for his flight. What was not flattering, however, was being the reason someone missed their flight. She would have to keep her eye on the clock as well.

"In that case, we definitely shouldn't reveal any information about ourselves, not even our names or what we look like," she said. 

Before he could protest, she quickly continued.

"Think about it, if you learned something about me that would turn you off from me, wouldn't that taint the whole enchantment? I want this night to remain a perfect memory in my head, and that is the only way we can achieve that."

The gears in the man's head were almost audibly turning at the suggestion. He looked hesitant at first, but soon, perhaps after having considered some skeletons in his own closet, he finally nodded.

"I agree."

Raquel smiled. "I am glad we are on the same page."

They walked for a moment in silence again. It was broken by the gentleman not soon later, and the content of his words surprised her.

"I do still need something to call you by. For the rest of the evening, and for when I tell this story in the future."

Raquel felt pleasant brightness in her chest at the thought of this man creating a story around her. She tried not to let it show on her face, however, and assumed a pondering expression.

"Something simple, maybe. I quite liked what you called me when you asked me to dance."

"My lady," he said, his voice caressing the words in a way that made her feel warm all over. She gave him a shaky nod.

"I should call you My Lord in that case, so we match."

He really, really seemed to like the idea judging by the way his eyes darkened a hint. But soon, he turned away to gaze into the distance.

"That you may," he said and cleared his throat.

Emboldened by all this, she grasped his arm and slowly drew herself by his side. "Shall we make the most of the time we have left then, my lord?"

The man turned her head, startled by the sudden contact. Soon, however, after he'd acquainted himself with the feeling of her body in such close proximity to his, his eyes softened and he lowered his hand on hers. "Let us try."

The sweet gesture made her heart skip a beat, but at the same time, a surge of awful guilt stung her chest.

It was hard, harder than she would have liked to keep telling herself that the reason she wanted to learn nothing of her companion was not because it would make it easier to pretend he was someone else.

Someone she should not even think about in this manner.

* * *

The next few hours they spent talking and laughing together as they rounded the island. It was so easy being with him that it was hard to keep track of time. She couldn’t even remember the last time he had checked his watch, nor had she checked the time from her phone. As selfish as it was, she did not want to break the enchantment they were currently wrapped up in.

The more she spoke to him, the more of his attractive qualities came to light. He was an attentive listener and seemed endlessly fascinated by even the tiniest details she dared to reveal about herself. She also had a blast flirting with him, and there had been a couple of moments she had thought he might just grab her, press her against the nearest wall and kiss her silly. It was obvious that he wanted her, and he really seemed like the perfect man - and still, she had no intention to let their relationship go on beyond this night.

Perhaps it was a curse of hers. The men that were perfectly kind and in her reach were not the ones she found occupying her every thought.

They continued their way down the cliffside to the rocky shores the waves were painting white with their foam. They walked all the way to the waterline where Raquel surprised her mysterious companion by taking off her shoes. She lifted the hem of her dress and waded in.

Just as she had thought, the water was refreshingly cool. She soothed her dance-sore feet while relishing in the pleasantly warm night-time air at the same time. She caught a glimpse of the man staring at her so she flashed him a teasing smile and gestured him to join her. "Come on in my Lord, the water is nice."

It took a moment of hesitation before he decided to take off his own shoes and follow her into the water. They stood there for a moment, smiling at each other foolishly before a particularly large set of waves came rushing in and they had to hurry back to the shore.

So began a game of chicken where they both ventured towards the waves to see which of them backed out first in order not to ruin the hem of their dress or their trouser leg. It was silly and not very dignified considering how prestigious of a party they were attending, but Raquel did not mind one bit. It was simply fun to do this carefree dance in the water while her midnight prince tried not-so-subtly to catch glimpses of her bare legs.

At one point, she turned around and decided to let out one merciless jape about his fascination with her hemline but that fell on deaf ears for at that very second, a half-a-meter tall wave was rushing towards them and his attention was seized by it.

"Look out!"

But before she could even look around her to see the wave, he had already acted; he had slung his arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. In the end, the water only grazed the soles of her shoes while her lord was less lucky. His trousers were soaked to his knees.

In any other situation, Raquel would have found something humorous to quip at his state, but at this very moment she could barely even breathe. He had her pressed so firm against his chest she could sense his heartbeat thrum against her skin, and she could smell his fine cologne in all its rich vividness. She was also acutely aware of every tendon of muscle that was currently wrapped around her. She had thought him a strong man before when he had caught her at the dock, but then he had been holding her with both of his arms. This time, he had simply lifted her in the air with one as if she weighed no more than a feather.

But worst of all was the way he was looking at her. It was not simply the ember-like gaze that was once again directed at her lips. It was the way it reminded her of Sergio that maddened her. All she could think when this gorgeous man was looking at her was  _ him _ , and she felt so frustrated she could cry.

He must have kept her in the air for only a few seconds, but to her it had seemed like an entire lifetime, and when he lowered her back on the ground, it felt much like she was crashing down like a bird shot in mid-air.

He seemed no less affected. The second she was out of his arms, he marched back to the shore with the fervor of an agitated animal, clenching and unclenching his hands. Raquel followed after him, concerned.

"I really, really should be going," he said with a throaty, almost strangled voice when she reached him.

"Alright," she answered with a small voice.

He put his shoes quickly back on and waited for her to do the same before absentmindedly gesturing her to follow him. "I'll walk you back to the pavilion.”

She fell into step after him, feeling oddly deflated at his drastic mood swing. Had he somehow sensed she had been thinking about someone else?

Another, far more plausible option could be that she had hurt his pride when she had insisted to keep things anonymous between them, and he was starting to grow frustrated about it now that the time for his departure neared. He seemed to be romantically interested in her, if she was not completely rusty after 9 years off the market.

Once again, she felt terribly guilty. She felt like she was toying with him simply because he happened to remind her of  _ him _ .

As she walked behind him on the moonlit path, all her words about a perfect memory and one magical evening started to seem silly. She was a grown woman, would it kill her to get laid by a perfectly nice guy once in her life instead of fantasizing about the goddamn king of Spain?

She stopped on her tracks, causing the gentleman to stop too and look at her to see what was holding her back.

He undoubtedly had not expected to see her remove her mask as he turned to look at her. His eyes widened and his breath audibly caught in his throat.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she stared defiantly back at him, her mask in her hand.

"My name is Raquel Murillo," she said and added, a little more hesitantly: "I wanted you to know, before you leave."

"I thought you wanted-"

"I changed my mind."

He stared at her for a moment before walking up to her with a sigh and a pained look in his eyes.

"Raquel, you are not making this easy for me."

He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand and looked at her, really looked at her. Not in the way you studied the face of a new acquaintance, no. This was the way a man who had not seen a sunrise in years looked at the morning sky, and it made her skin turn into gooseflesh.

His gaze then drifted to her lips, and for one heartbeat, Raquel thought he was going to finally lose his restraint.

But then he snapped his head away.

"I was supposed to leave on a boat four hours ago. What is wrong with me?" he said in a low, conflicted voice.

Raquel placed her hand against his. "I am sorry to have kept you so long."

"No, it's not you. It's me and- God, lingering here with you here is just begging for trouble."

He brought his hand away from her face. The force of his words made Raquel feel a throb of annoyance in her chest.  _ Trouble _ ? No one was forcing him to stay in her company!

Just when she was about to express this aloud, the man spoke, his back turned to her again.

"There is a woman waiting for me," he said with a faint voice.

_ Ah. _

So that was why.

A storm of emotions took over her. She was glad, glad because they had not kissed, but at the same time, she felt betrayed and angry. But the strangest of the feelings and also the strongest of them was  _ relief _ . It had rushed into her veins the second the words had left his mouth.

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly which man she truly wanted to kiss her, and it was not just some stranger.

"I understand," she said with a calm but quiet voice. "I have to admit that I am not free either."

He shook his head, frustrated. "It is not like that, she is just-"

He cut himself off and whipped his head around to stare at her, as if only now having processed her words. Multiple expressions crossed his face at once, from confusion to utter misery to curiosity to hopelessness.

Raquel read most of them as begging for an explanation which she would rather not give, but what choice did she have? This good man did not deserve to be played by her like this without her revealing at least an inkling of her true feelings.

"I feel ridiculous even talking about it," she began, her cheeks burning. "But there is a man. A wonderful, beautiful man. I am not entirely sure what I feel for him, but whatever it is, it is bad."

Raquel expected him to tell something about his woman in return which was why his next, quiet question startled her.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is it bad?" he whispered again, having come closer to her without her noticing. There was a strange look in his eyes, something Raquel only remembered seeing once; on the face of a man at a hotel bar after one of her gigs who had jokingly asked whether one of the songs she had sung that night had been about him.

It was the sort of a question he'd already known the answer to but had still asked it if only to see if there was the tiniest of chances Raquel would give him the time of the day and go along with it. After she had given him her polite but negative answer, the look had simply faded from his eyes and he had gone back to nursing his drink.

It was odd, seeing the expression again on this stranger considering that there was nothing at stake for him here.

"It just is," she said evasively. "And I am in pain because you remind me too much of him."

At that, his expression completely changed. First, something akin to hope flashed in his eyes only to be replaced by utter and complete despair.

She was just about to ask what this was all about, but before she could even open her mouth the man gave her a stern, warning look before directing his gaze at the ground. "Please don't."

"I am sorry but it is the truth, even though you would laugh at me if you knew who it was. It is  _ that  _ impossible."

"I don't want to hear it."

Raquel drew her brow together, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. "So it is okay for you to confess to just using me as a placeholder for one evening but I can't do the same?"

"But you don't even want to be with the man you are talking about," he said, his voice wavering. “You have made it perfectly clear. The words you use, bad idea, impossible…

She clenched her fists into tiny fists by her sides. She did not like this stranger assuming things about her. "You don't know what I want. You think I don’t want it just based on how I describe it? You are wrong."

For a moment, he looked like he had just been punched in the stomach. The next, he started vigorously shaking his head while backing away from her, his face ashen.

"No, no, no. This is not fair. Not now. Not only now that I have put everything in motion…"

"What is this to you?" she exclaimed, now confused and irritated beyond anything. "Why do you care whether I am in l-"

"You don't know who you are talking to. Don't confess anything to me. It will only make things worse ."

Something in the way he said those words gave her a pause. His voice had been tremulous and dark, as if his entire happiness depended on his ability to silence Raquel right there and then.

But that was not the only detail that troubled her.

_ You don't know who you are talking to. _

What did he mean by that? Why didn't he want to hear anything that had to do with Sergio?

An angry spark rose within her. She was starting to feel like someone was having fun on her behalf, and she wouldn't allow it.

"I need to leave," he murmured, more to himself than her. Raquel did not try to stop him when he turned on his heel and began walking away, leaving her standing alone on the cliff.

She calmly watched as he set on the path back to the pavilion. She waited, hesitant, staring at his back and rolling the words on her tongue.

Just when he was almost out of her voice's reach, she opened her mouth and spoke.

"He's the King," she said, her voice coming out shakier than she would have liked. Still, the effect it had was potent.

The man stopped dead on his tracks as if at an invisible wall and stayed there, completely paralyzed.

"The man I am talking about is the King of Spain," she repeated, her voice now resolute and sure. It was petty, she knew, but she just had to know what would happen if she told him. She had the strangest feeling it would unlock all the mysteries that had been bothering her tonight.

He responded in a way she would never have expected.

He turned to her with a slow, firm motion and laid his heavy gaze on her.

She straightened her back and stared back at him, refusing to be intimated.

That was when he wrenched off his mask and his hat, and Raquel's world was knocked out of its axis.

She was faced with  _ his  _ anguished, dark eyes, and  _ his  _ tousled hair and  _ his  _ fine lips.

Her mystery companion was King Sergio II.

He stared at her with his coal-black eyes, breathing hard, like an agitated bull daring the onlooker to come closer. But Raquel didn't. She more so wanted to run, run as far as from here as she could until her legs gave up on her. Yet, she stayed rooted to her spot, her hand over her throat as if ready to stop a cry from rising from her chest.

"Now you know," he said with a shuddery breath, turning to look away from her for a moment. His voice was now longer low, it was  _ his  _ voice, the real voice he had kept hidden from her all night. "You are free to take everything you just said back. I won't hold it against you. Just one word I will forget it all and we will proceed from there."

He took a step toward her, a frightening, determined step. It meant he was expecting to hear an answer and was coming closer to hear it. But she didn't have one.

Her mind was racing, and all she could think about was  _ itwashimitwashimitwashim  _ and  _ he dancedwithmehetoldmeIdeservedmorethanthedresshespentallnightwithmeandIjusttoldhimItoldhimItoldhim. _

All the while, he just kept inching closer.

"One word, Raquel," he whispered. "One word. Say it to me  because without it… "

He halted centimeters from her face, watching her with intent, dark eyes. She couldn't let out one sound. She couldn't, she was physically unable to, her lips were sealed shut and her throat was sandpaper and

And yet, she found herself taking one step closer. It was just one, tiny step but it was all he needed.

Before she could do so much as release an exhale, his hands were cupping her face and his lips were on hers.

It took less than two seconds for her to melt against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, I will shine a light on what exactly was going on with Sergio during this night. Stay tuned and find out just how deep in shit he has gotten himself!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio and Raquel experience highs and lows over the course of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You tell yourself; this chapter is going to be shorter. This chapter is going to come out sooner. And in just like that, you have another 11k chapter in your hands and three weeks have passed.
> 
> People still reading this, you truly have the patience of a saint! 
> 
> Thank you so much for bearing with me and sending me comments and messages on twitter, and thank you Ziyal_Lia once again for beta-ing and for your beautiful songs for this fic. 
> 
> P. S. I changed the name of Sergio's father to Alfonso so that it wouldn't be so similar to the name of the actual former king of Spain.

**10 days prior to the masquerade**

Sergio was miserable. He was perfectly aware why he was miserable, and the last thing he needed was his brother of all people reiterating the reason like a broken record player.

“Are you actually going to do it? Are you actually going to miss your oldest friend’s birthday to be Lady Snake Eyes’ purse-holder in D.C.?” was the first thing Andrés said when Sergio picked up the phone.

“Hello to you too,” Sergio said wearily.

“I wouldn’t have believed it of you,” Andrés scoffed.

Sergio fought the urge to hang up. This was already the third time his brother had brought up it today, and his patience was being exhaustively tested. He was sitting in his car on its way to the airport which was already an ordeal because he knew he would soon see Alicia and actually have to pose in pictures with her that would mark the first step in his journey to a marriage of convenience. Didn’t Andrés understand? Why was he so insistent on making his day even worse?

“Silene would understand,” he sighed into the phone.

“She would understand  –  but only because she is used to this. Three birthdays in a row, Checo. Three birthdays.”

“I know, I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and clenched his eyes shut. “But this is not exactly something I can blow off.”

“Oh please, as if every inch of your being is not dying to fake a stroke just so you don’t have to go.”

“That would be very unregal of me.”

“Unregal,  _ por Dios _ . This is what I feared would happen when they coronated you. That suddenly smiling and waving to some gawking Americans would be more important to you than your family and friends.”

Just as he said that Sergio got a notification ping. Andrés had sent him pictures of him and the gang throughout the years. Sergio grimaced in pain. He really, really wished he could be there.

“Did you call me just to make me miserable?”

“I actually do have something I need your advice about,” he said, and once again Sergio heard the familiar ping of an image file hitting his inbox.

This time, he did not take his phone off his ear to look, knowing this had to be just a ploy to get him to look at Silene’s baby pictures or something.

“I am not going to look.”

“Please, for me? I really need your help.”

Sergio hung up on him, but mere seconds later he felt so bad about doing that to his own brother that he couldn’t help but take a look at what he had sent him

He had sent him a picture of some woman _ — _ probably a model _ — _ wearing a beautiful shoulder-exposing burgundy gown.

So what do you think? said the following text message.

_ — I don't know, isn't she a little young for you? Besides, I am pretty sure you are still married. _

_ — No, not the woman. The dress! Do you like it? _

_ — It is beautiful, I suppose. Rather bold. But why do you ask? _

_ — She is a bold woman. The reason why I ask is that there is someone Silene really wants to invite, but the trouble is that she cannot afford an evening gown. So I was thinking that you could sponsor her one. You did that last year for Radko‘s wife, after all. _

_ — Why aren’t you buying her one yourself? _

_ — I would, but alas, all my hard-earned money is going to divorce proceedings. _

_ — So you are no longer married. Why do you not tell me about stuff like this? _

_ — I wouldn’t want to bother you with such trite details about my life. Now, are you buying her that dress or not? _

_ — Fine, fine. I will write you a check. _

_ — I knew I could count on your soft heart. _

_ — Who is she anyway? Who in Silene's circles does not already own an evening gown? _

An abnormally long time passed without an answer, causing Sergio to think that Andrés had grown bored of the conversation and moved on.

But just as he was putting his phone away, the message arrived with a resounding ping.

_ — What I can say is that she is the kind of woman who you would love to see in red. _

Sergio stared at the cryptic message for a few, confused seconds before just sighing and putting his phone away. He had no time or energy for his brother’s guessing games.

Only later, when Sergio was sitting on a bench under a fall-colored tree with his arm awkwardly draped around Alicia while the photographer vigorously tried to coax a smile out of him, did he think about it. His mind had either reached the point of agony where any thought was a good enough escape from reality or the words had simply remained dwelling in his subconscious only to burst out and nag at him at the worst possible moment.

_ The kind of a woman who you would love to see in red. _

Who was “you”? Did he mean Sergio or just people in general?

He had never hated the you-passive more. The sentence spread its tentacles in his head until there was nothing else he could think about.

He was almost 100 percent sure Andrés was messing with him, but it still bothered him. He did not like the idea of the mere suspicion of who that woman could be, affecting him so strongly.

However, he was successful enough in chasing the thought from his mind up until the moment he was sitting on the seat of his private plane, next to Alicia, on the day he was supposed to leave, feeling completely and utterly disgusted with himself.

_ It was fine. Everything was fine, _ he tried to tell himself but it was hard to focus because Alicia had already started snoring before they had even taken off.  _ At least someone could sleep during this flight,  _ he thought enviously.

Hell, he wished he could even close his eyes without seeing  _ her  _ in that dress.

For the life of him, he couldn’t explain what happened next. He heard the sound of the plane door being opened and someone talking in the corridor. Perhaps a last-minute check that everything and everyone was on board.

Then, without a single sensible thought in his mind, he rose from his seat and calmly walked to the open door. He must have looked so determined, that the staff had not asked any question. Only when he’d already walked all the way back to the terminal, people started yelling after him.

So he quickened his pace.

Before anyone could stop him, he’d sneaked out of the airport and gotten himself a cab. He gave the driver the address of the place he knew rented costumes and leaned back on his seat.

He knew this might just be the stupidest thing he had ever done, but he did not care. He had a birthday to catch.

Even though he knew Andrés had just been picking at his weakness and that Raquel would not really be there, he still wanted to attend. His brother had had a point, which he’d realized in the plane. This might be one of the last few times he got to spend with people he considered family before Alicia became his actual one.

When he had his mask and suit, he called his brother to let him know he was coming, and only after to his chief of security and the rest of the staff to tell them he would be catching the early morning plane in business class and that they could have the rest of the day off if they wanted. As his reason he’d offered an ‘urgent matter that needed taking care of’.

With that, he meant balloons he needed to help set up as Silene’s birthday surprise.

He was actually feeling quite good about himself and the decision he’d made as he’d arrived at the venue. He was a good friend as well as a good king.

That feeling lasted for approximately twenty more minutes until he recognized the woman he’d helped from the boat as Raquel by her eyes and watched her take her boyfriend’s arm and walk off, laughing with him.

* * *

He had only been here for an hour, and he was already on his second glass of wine.

Every time he looked at  _ her _ , he wished it was something stronger he had in hand. She looked devastatingly, achingly beautiful in that gown, even more breathtaking than what he’d imagined in his head when Ándres had sent him the picture. Her hair that cascaded down her bare shoulders, her sparkling laughter he could almost hear across the room, the way her leg was exposed as she moved… it all made him feel as if someone was pouring molten asphalt down his throat.

The worst part was the fact that no matter how he tried, he couldn’t turn his eyes from her. Like a moth to a fire, he was drawn to her every movement. And the lot of a moth who gave in to the temptation was not what he wanted.

He had no right to look at any of it. She was someone else’s to hold and admire.

Sergio’s eyes shifted from her to her dance partner, a burly, glass-wearing man.

He saw him spin her around, and he saw her face light up in a laugh. That emboldened the man and he drew her closer. The bottom of Sergio’s stomach vanished.

It was a strange, disturbing sensation, one he didn't remember ever having before. At the same time, he felt an overwhelming desire to step into the other man’s skin and push him away from her at the same time.

Of course,  _ of course _ she would have someone. How could she not? How could she spend a single day on Earth without making everyone she encounters fall in love with her?

He felt all the more foolish for chasing her to the stairway to tell her how long she had occupied his thoughts and returning her earring in person.  He could only hope she hadn’t realized what all that meant. 

He couldn't watch any longer. It was pure torture.

He turned his back to the tormenting sight. He set his drink on the table and marched off without anyone noticing. The anonymity of the mask was a blessing at times like this. No one cared whether he came or went.

He headed straight towards the docks. He would take the next boat to the mainland and wipe this whole night from his mind. He reasoned to himself that since Silene did not even know that he had come, he could not disappoint her by immediately leaving. At least, he could not disappoint her any more than he already had.

So there he stood, staring into the horizon and waiting for the boat. He wished he had not left his wine glass behind. He needed more alcohol in his system if he wanted to make it to the airport.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He did not know whether it was the leisurely, swaggering pace of the intruder or simply the way he whistled, but he immediately knew it to be his brother who must have followed him after seeing him leave. His current nemesis.

The man stopped by his side and let out a nerve-grating  _ tsk tsk. _

“All alone here before the party has even properly started?”

Sergio did not dignify him with an answer. He feared he had absolutely nothing polite to say to his brother.

Ándres did not give up. “And so sullen too. Penny for your thoughts?”

"Right now I am thinking about pushing your head underwater and holding it there until I no longer see bubbles.”

His brother grimaced. “Ouch. And I thought you would be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?! You not only guilt-tripped me into coming here and made me postpone my travel plans and offend at least two dozen people in charge of this state visit, you also arranged the woman I’d least like to see in the world to be here and made me watch her with another man. Point to me exactly at which I should be grateful.”

Andrés tapped his finger against his cheek with an even more diabolical expression on his face than usual. “Hmm, if I remember correctly, I never forced you to come. You did that to yourself. And don’t say that it was my talk about Silene that made you come.”

“I – “

"You came because you couldn't stop thinking about  _ her _ in that gown, didn't you?" he said with a wry voice.

Sergio admitted nothing of the sort. “You set this all up, didn’t you? Just admit it.”

"Gladly, I have no regrets. I have both arranged a night off for a woman who could really use one and I have proven my point. You  _ do  _ want her.”

“How could making me miserable benefit you?” Sergio hissed. “Or is this some new sadistic hobby of yours?”

“Hey, that was never my intention. You were supposed to see her and realize you could not marry Alicia in good conscience when a woman like her existed. I would have saved you from ruining your life and at the end of it, you’d probably have even gotten laid for the first time in a decade. But even my plans don’t always work. How should I have known about the boyfriend? She certainly had not mentioned him in any social media.”

Sergio groaned.  _ Why was this his life? _ One certainly had to have reached a new low if his own brother managed to trick him into causing a diplomatic disaster. If he had just listened to his senses, he would already be in the U.S. doing his duties.

Andrés shrugged. “But what is that guy to you? You are the fucking King of Spain. You could get him exiled if you wanted.”

“No, I am not going to do that. I am going to take the next boat and head straight to the airport and perhaps if you are lucky, I won’t have someone snipe you in your sleep. It all depends on whether or not I’ll be able to find something to knock me out for the rest of tonight.”

"Alright, alright. I get it. This is the worst day of your life. You are forced to watch some random douchebag dance with your girl with nothing but liquor and thinly-veiled death threats toward me as your comfort. And by the end of the night, you have a 9-hour flight and Alicia's cold embrace waiting for you."

"It’s like you  _ want _ me to push you off this dock," Sergio slurred.

"Let me finish. This is the worst day of your life  – but in exactly three hours, it will be midnight. A new day. If you are by then back in the mainland and on your way to the airport, I promise you, that day will be even worse. And the day after that, and the day after that. But if you stay... Well, it could only be the second-worst day of your life. Or it could be something you will one day thank me on your knees for making happen. You don't know yet, and you will never know if you do not take a detour once in your damn life."

Sergio blinked. He didn't know whether it was only the alcohol blurring his senses, but his brother was starting to sound oddly inspiring.

"I guess it depends entirely on whether the boyfriend will send you to the hospital or not if you try anything with her," Andrés added with a shrug.

_ Yes, it was definitely the alcohol. _

“I am not going to change my mind.”

“Very well, but at least stick around until Silene sees you and you can give her that balloon surprise. It is the least you can do.”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you? Shamed me about Silene and planted that balloon idea in my head just so that you would get me to stay a few hours longer if I threatened to leave.”

“What I can say, I am the ultimate puppet master,” Ándres grinned. “And the way I managed to lure you here without even outright telling you Raquel was coming.” He kissed his fingers. “ _ Brilliant.” _

“Pathetic is what you are.”

“And you postponed your trip because of a pretty girl in a red dress. Who exactly is pathetic here?”

Sergio gritted his teeth. Raquel, or the remote possibility of her being here, was not why he had come. It was not.

Then, a very petty idea for revenge came into his head. It was below him in every sense, but by this point, Andrés probably deserved anything that was coming to him.

“The balloons are not actually the only way I influenced this party, I’ll have you know,” he said.

Andrés lifted an eyebrow.

“I also invited someone that could add… a hint more rustic energy to the evening. Someone who could entertain us all with his horse stories.”

In just a few seconds, his brother went through all stages of grief. Finally, his expression settled on utter horror.

“Tell me you did not invite Martín here.”

"You heard right. He is with Alicia all the time; it was impossible to keep him from knowing about the party. And it would have been rude not to extend the invitation to him.”

Andrés’ eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “You are bluffing.”

“Are you sure?”

His expression told Sergio he was not.

A panicked look crossed his face, only to be replaced by the calm mask he usually wore. “Whatever. I am not going to let him ruin my evening.”

“I doubt you will even notice his presence, he is wearing a mask like everyone else.”

A hint of terror crept back into his eyes. At that moment Sergio knew his older brother would not be able to rest until he figured out where Martín was.

Andrés then marched off, undoubtedly to spend the rest of the evening either dancing until his feet grew blisters to make his former friend jealous or ripping off masks when he finally could not bear not knowing where he was.”

Of course, Sergio had not really invited Martín to the party but that teensy detail his brother wouldn’t discover until probably much later. And by that point, Sergio would hopefully be all the way across the Atlantic.

* * *

In the end, Sergio decided he might as well go back and reveal himself to Silene. If he did not at least greet his friends, the night would be completely wasted. Besides, Silene would never speak to him again if she discovered he’d come only to slip away without saying so much as good birthday to her just because of some ridiculous heartache.

He would go there, spend some time with his friends and say goodbye to Silene and the others like a decent, well-mannered person. He would not lay a single look on Raquel.

He broke that promise less than five minutes later as he arrived back at the pavilion and his eyes settled on her almost out of their own accord.

She was talking with her boyfriend, looking troubled. He did not like seeing her so unhappy, but there was nothing he could do. He had no business watching her so keenly in the first place.

So he spent the next hour talking with his friends, hiding from people who had discovered his identity when he’d revealed himself to Silene, and trying to sober up. He was already in hot enough water for shaking off his staff, he would not want to appear drunk as a skunk in front of them later. He still had some respect to command.

Alicia had been blowing up his phone for the last twenty minutes, meaning that she must have arrived now and had to be furiously waiting for an explanation for his disappearance. He turned off his phone, deciding to give her one later. Right now he was still too miserable to think about her.

He’d just gotten another refill of his soda when something happening in the other side of the room caught his attention.

Raquel was marching off from her date with a furious stride. She seemed extremely agitated about something.

As soon as concern for her had overtaken him, he had commanded himself to look away _. None of my business, none of my business, none of my business.  _

And yet, he couldn’t help but look up just when she disappeared through a door. His eyes refused to inch away from it.

He had made many, many promises about what to do in regards to her tonight. He wouldn’t break them all off just because she had looked upset.

Then again, it had looked like she had tears in her eyes…

_ Fuck it,  _ could he even call himself a good friend if he was not one to people outside of his closest circle. Raquel being the frequent subject of his dreams had nothing to do with it. He simply wanted to help a stranger, as a stranger.

His boat would leave in twenty minutes or so. He would just have one quick talk with her in order to make sure she was okay, and then leave.

* * *

He talked to her, and when he saw her tear-filled eyes brighten in a smile, he decided to stay just for a little while longer. And when she asked him to stay, of course he couldn’t say no. That would just be impolite.

And when the idea of taking her dancing popped into his head, there seemed to be no reason not to put it into action. It was what anyone would do for a lady in need.

And once he learned how it felt to have his hand tenderly placed on her waist and take a turn with her on the dance floor, her dainty body inches apart from his, the thought of another dance with her did not seem like an opportunity to r eject with as frivolous of a reason as the boat schedul e.

He was also not the kind of man who could cold-heartedly ignore her plea to take her away. No, he would take her outside and take the weight off her heart by listening to her.

And at that point, who was he to abandon her by leaving when they were getting along so well. And what was he supposed to do, to not sweep her in his arms when that wave came?

And when she told him about her feelings for the King…

Well, he was only a man. And it was  _ her. _

In the end, that quick talk lasted for four hours, and ended up with Raquel’s mouth on his.

* * *

Sergio was kissing  _ her _ , and she was completely and utterly lost.

His mouth was soft and warm and forceful and a perfect fit hers, each motion against her lips rendering her limbs to hot liquid to the point where she wasn’t sure whether her legs would even hold her were he suddenly to let go of her.

But there was no fear of that. His arms stayed firmly around her, anchoring her to him like she was a lifeline. Raquel slung her arms around his neck for additional support, and in response, he almost lifted her off in the air in his attempt to deepen the kiss. If she was not already molten wax in his hands, that would have done the trick.

There was gentle pressure on her cheek, his fingers resting on her skin as he cupped her jaw and angled her lips to his. The way his thumb brushed against the corner of her lip affected her almost more than his fierce kisses did. Her heart was pounding so hard her ears grew hot and she felt her whole body tremble at the force of it. Oh, what was he doing to her?

Her thoughts became a little clearer at that whisper of a question voiced in her heart. Indeed _ , what _ was he doing to her? What had prompted this? Whatever could possess the King to…

The rest of the reality returned to her in one violent rush. He was the King. The King of Spain was kissing her.

At the same time as her eyes flew open, he sighed into her mouth and drew her closer, like he was afraid she might float away. The next kiss he stole was even deeper than the one before and would have managed to seduce her into its sweet song if the mantra running through her had not completely petrified her.

It was when his head lowered and she could feel his beard scratch against the sensitive skin of her neck that she decided to act. She was in no position to learn exactly how his stubble felt against her skin.

_ No, no, no. _

She pushed him away the next moment he broke apart for air.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, as Sergio looked back at her with dazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

“I know, I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he said weakly, taking a step back.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she murmured, hugging herself. “You are the King!”

Sergio didn’t say anything at that, just looked at her with sad dark eyes. God, she already regretted everything she’d revealed to him. How was she supposed to get out of this mess now?

She could already see the headlines:  _ The King cheats on his girlfriend with a tawdry singer. _

“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad,” she mutters to herself, unable to even look at him.

“The kiss was bad?” he asked, momentarily looking like a kicked puppy.

“No, no,” she shook her head vigorously. “The kiss  **–** the kiss was nice. But that doesn’t erase the fact that you weren’t supposed to be doing that.”

“I was not supposed to be here either,” he said weakly.

“Then why did you come?”

He looked at her meaningfully, making Raquel immediately realize the answer.  _ Her. The answer was her. _

It was all too much. The same feelings that had taken over her at the end of her concert at the palace were crashing over her again.

She took a step back, not knowing what else to do but to retreat from the overwhelming situation.

In doing that, she almost stepped into the water that the waves had pushed up to the shore while they had talked. Sergio prevented her from doing so, however, by clamping his hands around her and pulling her towards him.

Once again, she had ended up chest to chest with him.

She tried to weakly detach herself, but Sergio wouldn’t let her, a solemn expression on his face. Perhaps because he was afraid she would tumble right back into the water, or perhaps because he simply did not want to let her slip from his fingers again... The latter option made both heat and anger rise within her. This was not right.

“What would your girlfriend think about the night you have spent with me?” she asked icily.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Whatever Lady Sierra is to you then.”

“She is nothing to me,” he said seriously. She could almost feel his grip on her tighten as he uttered the words.

“Ah, so you don’t care one bit how gallivanting around with me might hurt her?”

Sergio mulled around his words for a moment before speaking up, rather awkwardly.

“Let me rephrase that. She was never more than an acquaintance to me.”

“But it was to my understanding that you have an agreement of sorts,” Raquel insisted, thinking back to what Lady Sierra had told her. The next words were a struggle to choke up. “That you were going to make her your queen.”

“How could I pursue anything with her? After everything you told me?” Sergio asked, his eyes blazing with a fire she had not seen before in his gaze.

“Everything I told to a masked stranger, not the King,” she said, an accusatory tone in her voice. She was not going to let him forget that he had been pretending to be someone else all night.

“Do you want to take it back?” he asked, sad but solemn.

Raquel hesitated. What she had spoken was the truth, and she couldn’t just take it back because it would be simpler, easier.

Besides, it felt wrong to lie to his face. So she remained quiet.

Sergio nodded, as if saying, _ That is what I thought. _

He eased his grasp of her, looking a bit dopey  **–** as if only now realizing how tightly he had held her. She was now free to leave if she so wished.

She didn’t.

After realizing she wasn’t going to go, his smile brightened, and something akin to fervent hope started shining from his eyes. Her treacherous heart made a leap at it.

“Raquel, you would be hard-pressed to find any power in the world that could keep me away from you, now that I know my feelings are requited,” he said earnestly.

Raquel’s knees felt weak. Oh, she wished she had more strength to fight this, but she didn’t. This dream was far too wonderful, despite the wrongness of it.

“You… you really shouldn’t break up with your girlfriend over some passing feelings for another woman,” Raquel said stiffly.

He shook his head. “As I said, Alicia is not my girlfriend."

“But you said there was a woman waiting for you **–** ”

“There is no one else,” he said emphatically, looking her straight in the eye.

_ But me _ , she finished in her head. Dear lord, she was starting to believe it.

Just as she felt like something monumental had shifted between them, there was a sound of someone’s footsteps rustling in the shrubbery that broke them out of the strange and exhilarating haze. Sergio sprang apart from her and settled in front of her like a barricade. The tiny protective gesture made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, though she doubted either of them was in any serious harm from a stranger on an island full of refined party guests and staff who had been carefully picked by Silene.

“Who goes there?” he called out.

The very next moment, the beam of a flashlight slashed across their feet. The light was soon followed by its caster and a young man stepped into view. He was wearing a mask, but not the kind that the guests wore. This was what the staff had covered their eyes with in order to differentiate themselves from the guests.

The man’s face lit up in immediate relief as he spotted Sergio.

“Ah, thank god! Doña Oliveira was getting worried you had slipped on the wet cliffs and split your skull or worse, sneaked out without saying goodbye to her.” He turned to look at Raquel. “There is also a gentleman who has been asking after this lady.”

_ Ángel. _

Embarrassment heated Raquel’s face. She had deserted him for god-knows-how-many hours. He had to be pissed.

Though a small part of her did not feel nearly as bad as she should. After all, Ángel had not exactly exhibited exemplary behavior either.

Strangely enough, Sergio’s rigid posture had not eased as the identity of the intruder was revealed. He was still looking at him with his spine straight and stiff and his face made of stone. Raquel wondered why he felt so uncomfortable in this young man’s presence until it struck her.

She had read him wrong. Perhaps he had wanted to quickly detach himself from her instead of protecting her. He probably hadn’t wanted to be seen next to her.

The realization made an ugly, dark sensation crush her lungs.  _ Of course. _

A man in his position was probably able to justify to himself why he shouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of kissing a commoner during a night out — as long as he was not seen with her.

The thought made her suspect whether he was just having some fun with her before returning to his queen-to-be. Isn’t that what men in his position often did? She had certainly heard rumors about the late king Alfonso having more lovers than there were men in the royal guard.

The newly resurfaced feeling of being inferior tasted like acid in her throat.

Perhaps if her own feelings weren’t so strong, she’d feel flattered about his interest or at least amused. But now, his attentions only seemed cruel. She couldn’t help but feel selfish. She didn’t want to be just some one-night plaything for the king, who he sneaked off to kiss in the darkness of the night. She wanted more.

Yet, it was impossible. However, she wasn’t going to yield to him just because she couldn’t expect anything better. She had her pride.

“I am sorry for the intrusion,” the young man said after examining their body language. “Do you want some privacy? I can tell Doña Oliveira you are fine and that other people needn’t go looking for you.”

Judging by the look on the boy’s face, he knew exactly what they had been up to moments before and was trying to be discreet. Before Sergio would open his mouth and deny any suspicions the man might have and crush Raquel in the process, she spoke up.

“It’s very late. I’ll come with you back to the pavilion. I wouldn’t want Silene to worry.”

The man nodded at this amiably.

She followed after him who had already started climbing the path up, lighting the area with his flashlight. She could feel Sergio assume a position right behind her. A hand lowered near the small of her back, an inch from her skin, not quite touching her but his fingers were as good as on her skin. She felt her body flush.

The hand stayed there, perhaps not quite to steer her, but to reassure her of his presence and protection. It was quite a contradictory gesture, considering how he had leaped away from her. The man could also see this tell-tale sign of intimacy if he did as much as looked behind him which had to be the exact opposite of Sergio’s intention.  _ What was he doing? _

She was all the more confused when another particularly steep, rocky threshold followed and he grasped her elbow in order to help her over this. This time, she was positive the man guiding them saw them. Her cheeks tingled with warmth.

_ He is just being a gentleman _ , she thought.  _ Just a gentleman. _

They made their way back to the venue and to Raquel’s discomfort, she saw that the majority of the remaining guests, if not all of them, were outside. They were lighting little lanterns and sending them into the air in Silene’s honor.

Normally, she would have loved to join them, but at the moment she was feeling far too vulnerable. She did not want any eyes on her. It was as if people would know how she had been fooling herself just by looking at her.

Luckily for her, Sergio was distracted enough after seeing his friends that he did not pay any mind to her for a precious few moments. She slipped from his aura of protectiveness and sneaked off the trail leading to the pavilion.

Instead, she took a longer route and rounded the building where no one could see her. She used the side entrance and slipped back into the ballroom like a thief in the night.

Thankfully, the place was mostly empty. There were only a few members of staff clearing some glasses from tables or talking amongst themselves. She decided to seat herself on a table furthest away from any bustle. She really needed a breather.

She calculated that she would get, at the very least, ten minutes to herself before the guests poured back inside. Deciding to make the most of it, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

_ It was fine. She was going to be fine. She just had to keep her mind off him. _

After failing miserably to stop thinking about the way the King had kissed her, she decided to switch tactics and occupy her mind with other, less weighty things. She dug her phone from her purse and checked the time.

It was two in the morning. Silene had told her charter boats back to the mainland left every half an hour at :00 and :30. Dammit. She had just missed one and would have to wait thirty long minutes to board the next one.

There was also a text message from Ángel. She opened it and quickly saw that it was at least a dozen paragraphs long. She grimaced and turned off her phone without replying. She would deal with all that later.

The gist of it seemed to be that he had already left. At least it was one less thing to deal with. She didn’t know how she could have explained to him what she had been doing the last several hours.

Hell, she couldn’t even explain it to herself _. What had she been doing? _

Ángel probably wouldn’t even believe her if she told him, that was how ridiculous it was. She had nearly become the mistress of the King of Spain. She herself would laugh herself out of the room if she were told this story.

But no one had to know. She would definitely never breathe a word of this to anyone, not even her mother. She wouldn’t embarrass Sergio and the royal family that way. Besides, she did not exactly feel up to tearing at the scab that would undoubtedly form over her heart just to see the wide-eyed surprise on people’s faces.

She bent down to take off her heels, feeling the weight of them particularly shackling now that she was so mentally and physically weary.

They were elegant, open-toed heels meant for dancing, and she loved them except for one part; the complicated straps and teeny-tiny clasps made them a nightmare to remove.

Just when there was a flicker of hope she might manage to ease the first one of them off before sunrise, she noticed another pair of shoes appear in her field of vision.

She looked up and saw none other than Sergio standing in front of her.

“Need any help?”

Raquel was unable to marshal together an answer, but he did not seem to need one. He simply kneeled in front of her and gently took her foot in her hand. Raquel’s blood rushed from her head to her chest, causing her heart to almost burst out of its seams as she watched him start to gently open the straps.

“You disappeared,” he then stated after smoothly sliding her first heel off.

“Oh well,” Raquel said, pushing a lock of her hair off from her face. “I just did not want your friends to see you arrive with me and get the wrong idea.”

Sergio was in the middle of removing her other shoe before stopping his ministrations and stiffening. He looked up at her with solemn eyes.

“What makes you believe I wouldn’t want them to get that exact idea?”

His words made her skin tingle with that same treacherous pleasure as before at the beach, but she had to fight it. She wouldn’t allow herself to be charmed off her feet anymore, not because of mere empty words and sweet gestures.

“I mean, it would be easier for a man in your position not to have to disclose every woman you kissed to your circle of acquaintance. It is not like this is going to lead somewhere,” she said, maybe a hint dryly.

His expression then changed into something so injured Raquel felt a twinge in her heart.

“You are the King. It is not like you can just go around kissing women like me at parties,” she clarified. “It is not how it works.”

He was silent for a moment, taking Raquel’s shoe and placing it neatly beside the other. He then rose slowly, looking at her meaningfully. It took a good while before he spoke up again, however.

“You’re right. What I did was not proper.”

Raquel had wanted him to validate her by admitting that she was not a woman he would never pursue, but now she felt wholly differently. It was like someone had pricked a needle on her chest and deflated it.

But instead of walking away and leaving her to her misery, Sergio remained standing in front of her, rubbing his neck with a hesitant expression on his face.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner. I know a nice restaurant where they are discreet. Not like we could discuss state secrets there, but the staff or the other diners won’t be calling the paparazzi at least.”

Raquel took a while to process his words. She blinked, frowned and then blinked again.

“You want to take me out on a date?” she asked, like one would to make sure there was no cruel prank taking place.

“Yes. Like you said, that is not how this works. I need to do it the proper way, in the right order. It is what you deserve. If you say yes, of course—”

Raquel still couldn’t comprehend him. It was like his words had whooshed past her head without her being able to grasp a single one.

It was official. This was officially nothing like she thought this night would go.

Suddenly, she was not completely sure what she normally did with her hands so she started combing her fingers through her wavy hair like its state was the most pressing concern in her life right now, unlike the man of her dreams waiting for an answer to his wish to pursue her.

“Just, let me get this straight. You… you actually want to give this a chance?” she asked tentatively, almost wishing he would just smile and say he was not being serious. That would unravel the overwhelming knot of nervous energy weighing on her chest. She felt like her heart was going to vibrate out of her chest. “It was not just empty talk at the beach to get me to sleep with you?”

Sergio shook his head violently as if distressed by the mere suggestion. 

“Raquel, I have been waiting for a chance with you for 15 years,” he said with all the soft sincerity in the world. Like it was a fact, as undeniable as gravity or the tide.

The knot in her chest did not unravel. The very opposite happened; it swelled up until it consumed her whole, and she discovered it was made of pure, unadulterated joy. 

“Yes,” she breathed out before she could think twice about it.

After saying it, she realized that there was nothing else she could have possibly answered.

Sergio blinked. He looked surprised as if he had not dared to even hope for a yes.

“Yes?” he repeated, like a dumbfounded parrot.

“Yes,” she said, vigorously nodding. A laugh escaped her.

It was strange, feeling so light and happy after so much doubt and insecurity. All that was needed was a few words.

_I have been_ _waiting for a chance with you for 15 years._

__ It was pure magic, plain and simple.

Sergio took a gleeful little step towards her, his face shining like the sun. For a moment, it looked like he was about to kiss her, but at the very last second he stopped and did not take her face in his hand like it had seemed he would do.

“Ah yes, need to remember propriety and all,” he murmured, looking adorably awkward. “Have to do things in the right order from now on—”

She crashed her lips on his before he could finish that sentence.

It took less than a heartbeat for Sergio to answer. He entwined her against him before she could do as much as wind her arms around him, pressing her so close for a moment, she was not sure where she ended and he began.

This time, the kiss they shared was desperate in the way that told her just how he relieved he was that he got to do this again despite all odds. Everything from the frantic motion of his lips to his hands bunching around the fabric of her dress to his shallow breaths was full of disbelief. If she were to judge her own ministrations from the outside, she was certain she would radiate the same energy.

He was so hungry for her that her head began to spin and her breath came in gasps, one shorter than the other. She rose on her tiptoes, trying to capture as much of his lips as possible. It seemed that even that was not enough for a man in his state. He ended up yanking her off the ground and lifting her to his lips.

“Oh, you gotta stop doing that,” Raquel laughed the next time they broke for air.

“What?” Sergio asked, feigning cluelessness. “You mean this?”

He then spun her in his arms, like he was dancing with her even though her feet were at least a few inches off the floor. She laughed, a light happy sound that issued from deep in her chest, deeper even than where she felt tonight’s impossible happiness bloom within her. And she had thought she couldn’t possibly be able to feel more joy than just moments ago.

Sergio was just about to kiss her again when there was the sound of doors opening on the wall nearest to them. In came a cacophony of three familiar voices.

“Where are you, my dearest brother? I have a few choice words to say about Martín, or rather, the lack of him,” said the first menacingly sing-songy voice.

“Oh, just drop it, Andrés, Martín has better things to do than haunt your every waking moment. What I want to know is why a certain someone disappeared before lighting his lantern,” slurred Silene.

“Enough about the lantern! The man’s flight leaves in an hour and a half, we need to get him to the boat!” cried Monica.

All of the voices stopped at the same time as the trio arrived close enough to see what she and Sergio were up to. Sergio was still holding her up in a dancing position, his hair a mess, a rabbit-in-the-headlights look in his eyes. Her own state had to look just as damning, if not more.

They took one look at them before, almost simultaneously, deciding to turn back and walk to where they had come from.

They stepped back outside, but before the door had even properly closed after them, they burst into raucous laughter and chatter.

“I’ll give it ten minutes tops before they all come to hound us,” Sergio said sheepishly.

“Better make use of that time.”

That was all the encouragement Sergio needed to lift her on the nearest table. He stepped between her legs and placed his hands on her body, leaning in to capture her lips. She could feel his smile in his kiss, and it only rendered her into more of a warm, soft-hearted puddle.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, relishing in its soft texture, and wondering how in the world she had ended up here, in the position to be able to touch him in this way and hear his soft sighs of pleasure.

“Is this real?” she murmured after Sergio broke apart to adjust his hold on her.

“Don’t jinx this,” Sergio rasped out, pressing one breathless kiss after another on her lips. She could feel his fingers bunch around the fabric of her dress.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The thick waves of warmth radiating off his body were making her dizzy with desire,  and she began redirecting one of his hands to a more pleasurable place, sliding it slowly along her body,  when Sergio suddenly withdrew his hand as if he had burned it and took a small step back.

“What is it?” she frowned.

Sergio visibly swallowed, breathing hard.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am loving this, but… maybe a little too much too soon. I just need a moment.”

He looked so embarrassed that Raquel couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks glowing at the proof of the way she affected him at the same time. 

“You are cute,” she said, pressing a tiny kiss on his nose. Hopefully, it was unsexy enough not to make his situation worse.

“I could say the same about you,” he whispered, but the fervent way he looked at her suggested that what he thought she was far surpassed ‘cute.’

There it was again, that feeling of her heart trying to balloon its way out of her chest. But that sweet sensation was nudged aside bit by bit as her mind returned to what was said when they had been caught by his friends.

“Wait, is your flight really leaving in an hour and a half?”

Sergio nodded absent-mindedly, closing his eyes and angling his head to press his mouth against hers again.

Raquel moved her head away before his kiss landed. “Sergio, you  _ have _ to go.”

“I’ll quit.”

“You can’t quit as the King.”

“I’ll abdicate then.”

“And give Arturo Roman the crown?”

Sergio paused as If to seriously consider which was worse – giving that buffoon the throne or stopping kissing her.

She laughed, giving him a gentle push away. “I’ll walk you to the docks. Let’s go.”

“The boat leaves in 6 minutes. I’m never going to make it, so we could just—”

“You can if we run. Now come on, I am not worth a diplomatic debacle,” she laughed.

Sergio answered something to that, but she was already out of the door and did not hear it.

* * *

She was all light feet and wild laughter as she ran after Sergio downhill toward the docks. Behind them, a tail consisting of his closest friends and a few curious witnesses followed, shouting various commands to run faster and reminders of the time. The only boat to the mainland in an hour would leave in exactly three minutes. But the man seemed more concerned with turning back to smile at Raquel in a rather dopey manner.

“Go!” she shouted, the simple command almost drowned out by her own laughter.

He nodded absent-mindedly and continued running, looking very much like an oversized mantis that had just learned how to walk. At that moment, it seemed impossible for anyone not to take one look at him and not adore him.

The people behind her burst into cheers as Sergio finally stumbled onto the docks just as the captain of the charter boat was loosening the ropes. But instead of hastily clambering onto the boat as everyone expected, he froze in his spot and turned to look over his shoulder.

“What are you waiting for, you dumbo?” Agata hollered. “King or not, that guy is not gonna wait for you!”

The reason for his hesitation became apparent when his eyes locked in place on her.  _ He was waiting for her. _

Something very silly and elated burst in her chest as she realized she was the only thing holding him here. At the same time, a surge of exasperation consumed her. The fool was going to miss his flight.

She refused to be the reason for it, so she dashed forward and ran until she was next to him, out of breath, and he was touching her, holding her face in his hands and saying something to him she could not quite comprehend at first, so loud the blood rushing in his ears was.

“Give me your number,” she finally heard him say.

“What?” she laughed. “Sergio, the boat is pulling out of the dock now. I am sure you have resources to find it later.”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t feel right.”

She was about to argue, but something in his eyes stopped her. The burn of them made her feel that this might not be about her number. It was about something else, something she could not quite put to words but she could guess it had something to do with her explicit approval.

Realizing he wouldn’t leave without it, Raquel quickly looked around her for absolutely anything to write on and write with. She had not thought to bring her purse with her.

Silene came to her rescue and handed her a tube of lipstick from her handbag. Laughing, she settled for a tube of lipstick for the lack of anything better and pushed up Sergio’s sleeve. On the skin of his arm, she wrote her number in bright red letters.

As she finished writing, Sergio glanced behind him where the boat had just detached from the dock, quickly grabbed Raquel’s lipstick-holding hand and kissed it before dashing to the end of the dock and taking one giant leap to the boat.

He managed to stay on his feet as he landed, though the posture he ended up was not very flattering. Raquel could hear faint laughter from behind her and teasing comments thrown in Sergio’s direction, but the voices quickly faded making way for a more bewilderingly wonderful sensation. The mark of his lips was burning on her skin, and all she could see was him, standing on that boat, staring back at her, words on his lips she could not read. Whatever they were, the way he was looking at her made her feel warm and happy and wonderful.

She stared at him go until he was only a dark dot in the distance.

* * *

Raquel herself left only an hour later, wanting to dwell on the fairytale just a little while longer before returning to the real world. Most of that time was spent wandering around the empty venue alone, running an absent finger against her lips every now and then, and smiling to herself. She also did spend some time with the others, despite their neverending teasing about what she and the King had been up to. At that, she simply smiled and said nothing. She did not particularly mind their teasing, not like she had before. This time it was different. This time… this time she had something to blush about.

She rolled that pleasant thought in her head until it was time to board the last boat back to the mainland. Since Ángel seemed to have taken the car assigned to them in order to go home, Silene offered Raquel her own driver and would not hear any protests. She wanted to continue her night at Aníbal’s place anyway.

So Raquel reluctantly boarded Silene’s car and told the driver her address.

She drowsily followed the scenery changing from her window the 50 minutes it took to drive home until the sound of a text message woke her up from her trance. She tapped her phone screen and saw an unknown number on her screen.

_ Did you get back home safely? — S _

She smiled at the message. At this time, he had to already be sitting in the plane, about to take off and yet he was texting her instead of preparing for the long flight ahead.

_ Still on my way :) Are you taking off soon? _

Another text from the number came less than a second later. On a whim, she decided to save Sergio as  _ Ikea assembly help hotline _ in her contacts. She wouldn’t want people knowing she had the King’s personal number, after all.

_ Not for another half hour or so. They are waiting for the runway to clear. _

Then, another:

_ Would it be crazy to tell you I already miss you? _

Her heart started pounding furiously again, and Raquel had to squeeze her hand against her heart in a subconscious effort to keep the driver from learning just how lovestruck she was. Though she had probably already failed at that when she climbed in, giggling and smiling about nothing in particular.

She didn’t know whether it was the wine or all the intoxicating kisses, but she was feeling a tad flirty.

She lifted her phone up and took a picture of herself, puckering her lips as if to blow him a kiss. Before she could overthink herself from doing it, she sent it with the caption _ Better _ ?

An instant regret washed over but did not have time to settle because Sergio’s reply came less than a second later.

_ Yes. _

He sent back a picture of his face with his hand pressed against his cheek as if to receive the kiss. Raquel grinned like a lunatic. In the picture, the personal protection officer sitting next to him was giving him a serious side-eye. He certainly looked dorky, but she loved it.

_ —  _ _ That was not meant for your cheek,  _ she typed, still smiling.

_ —  _ _ In that case, I think you may have to send me another one. _

She bit her lip, considering. What she wanted to do was rather bold — but then again, she had spent a good portion of this day kissing and touching him. He could hardly be shocked by her forwardness anymore. Besides, she was full of the giddy, lovestruck nectar that impaired her judgment in the best way possible.

So she did it. She lifted her phone all the way up to the ceiling and took a picture of herself from a rather scandalous angle. Her eyes were half-lidded and her lips parted a hint, curving into a slight, teasing smile. She was rather proud of it.

This time it took longer for him to answer, but only by ten seconds or so.

_ —  _ _ Where are you? I am gonna ditch this flight right now and come there. _

_ —  _ _ Nice try. You go and do your job. Good things come to boys who wait. _

Sergio started typing, then stopped, and then started typing again. Raquel smiled. She could just imagine his flustered expression as he tried to think of a smooth come-back.

_ —  _ _ Is that a promise? _

They were definitely sailing on some very risky waters now. Raquel would be lying if she claimed she did not love every second.

He sent another message before she could reply.

_ —  _ _ You're making it very hard for me to do things the proper way, Raquel. _

_ —  _ _ Who says you have to try so hard? _

To that, he did not answer anything. He must have had to put his phone into airplane mode. She did not mind. They would continue where they left off when he landed. In the meanwhile, she would bask in the fluttery feelings that seemed to have taken over her entire body.

There was a surprising amount of morning traffic near the street she lived in so she decided to give the driver some mercy and asked to be left off where there was only a kilometer and a half worth of trek left. She actually couldn't wait to get back on her feet. There was something about that booming joy inside her that demanded to be let out and she could not think of any better way than walking (or preferably, dancing).

So she hopped out of the car at one crossing and started walking toward home, her heels in her hand, a song on her lips.

“ _ Porque estas han sido las mejores noches de toda mi vida, _ ” she softly hummed one of her own songs.

She wondered whether it was possible to die from happiness. If it was, she might only have seconds left.

She was in that ridiculous state of glee where she wanted to greet every early bird and late-night partier who passed by her. Most people just offered a tired hello in return or just looked at her weirdly, but some of them were infected by her smile.

One of these people was Luis, a man who ran the corner shop near her home.

“Señora Murillo! What has you in such a bright mood this early in the morning?” the man asked, beaming at her as he plastered today’s newspapers on the window to tempt people to stop by and buy the paper and maybe a pastry as well.

“Oh, it is a long, long story.”

“Cup of coffee on me if you satisfy my curiosity?” the always-so-kind Luis offered.

Raquel smiled and was just about to accept the offer when her eyes flickered toward the newspaper Luis had just finished putting up.

She stared at the headline for a long moment without speaking, and then at the picture below it.

“Señora?” Luis asked, concerned.

And just like that, the best night of Raquel’s life turned into the worst.

* * *

Sergio wished he could feel worse about almost missing his flight or shaking off his personal protection officers. He really wished he could. But even when his head of security gave him a strict talking-to in the plane, he couldn't stop grinning.

Raquel was his. He was actually going to combust if he spent another second thinking about it.

He couldn’t believe this was real, that she was real. It was far too good to be true.

He kept waiting to wake up to the ugly reality in the plane any moment now, but it never happened. Instead, her number burned on his arm in red lipstick. He hadn’t bothered to explain it to the staff around him as he had rolled up his sleeve and saved the number on his phone. He couldn't care less about what anyone else thought about anything that had to with Raquel. Everything that happened between them tonight was brilliant and precious and sacred. Even the smudged lipstick on his arm.

He stared at his phone like a treasure chest he did not dare to open. He was scared to text her before he took off, scared that he would somehow jinx it, but when the flight was delayed he couldn't resist it any longer. He turned his phone on and texted her.

So ensued a conversation that made him worried he would get himself kicked off the plane. So obviously he had to adjust his trousers at one point. But god, he couldn't help it. It was  _ her _ and he would have to be dead to the world in order to not to be affected by her.

Just a photo of her with a seductive smile on her face was able to make him feel light-headed. He was almost certain he was going to blow it with his lack of flirting skills (he couldn't help but just be honest in any conversation), but Raquel showed no signs of being uncomfortable. Instead, she just stoked the fire until the point where he was seriously considering vacating the plane for her.

_ Who says you have to try so hard? _

Just when he was about to reply something hopefully equally frisky, the screen of his phone was hijacked by an incoming call.

_ Alicia Sierra _ , read on his screen.

_ Fuck. _

He had almost completely forgotten about her.  _ Almost.  _ In addition to exhilarating happiness, he had also felt nagging guilt about lying to Raquel about her. He had told her there was nothing between him and Alicia.

Which there wasn’t, of course, but it was still not the exact truth. He had planned on starting an official and public courtship with her. But that, Raquel did not have to know.

He had to tread carefully with a woman like her. Her past relationships seemed to have made her vulnerable, like a scared bird that would fly off at the slightest of signs that she was not worthy. In order to convince her he was serious about her despite his status, he could not exactly reveal that he was in talks with another woman about marrying her. It was a risk he could not take.

That would obviously not happen now. There was something about Raquel that made him selfish, more selfish than he had ever been in his life. When it came to her, everything else seemed irrelevant. Even the public’s reaction.

He would protect her from it all. He would do anything to keep her in his life.

But that left him in a difficult position. Should he break off his arrangement with Alicia over the phone just to get it over with as quickly as he could? Or wait until they were face-to-face as a sign of respect?

He wished there was a manual for these sorts of things.

He had let his phone ring for far too long now. The expression on his chief of security’s face started to grow questioning so Sergio had no choice but to answer.

Before he could even greet her, Alicia launched into her speech. “You are damn lucky I was able to convince the press that you had to stay behind to take her to the hospital. You have no idea how embarrassing it was to have to talk to the reporters alone! I could just see the pity in the eyes of those vultures when they interviewed me. I swear, I will find their names and have them all sacked when I am the queen. And now, you have some explaining to do. Did you purposefully want to humiliate me or–”

Sergio rubbed the part of his forehead where he could already feel a stress wrinkle forming. “You talked to reporters? Didn’t we talk about avoiding them like plague?”

“What was I supposed to do? They surrounded me in the shop I was in. Besides, I had to give  _ them something _ . After the pictures, our relationship is a hot topic now and if we want to make this look real, I have to feed the fire and talk about you–”

Sergio’s blood froze.

“What do you mean after the pictures?”

“Yeah, I figured it would be a good time to give the PR team a go-ahead to post the courtship photos on the official account so they’d make a splash right after we arrived in the U.S. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know you would flake on me. So we have some damage control to do–”

Sergio hung up on her before she could finish the sentence.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He opened the browser app on his phone with clammy fingers. It seemed to take forever to load.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck! _

And there it was, his and Alicia’s courtship photos right on the front page. He frantically opened another tab and another tab and another, just to find one website that hadn’t reported about it. If there was at least one, there had to be more and maybe Raquel wouldn't...

But it was no use. The photos were plastered all over the internet and every newspaper in the known world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel and Sergio deal with the aftermath of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it has taken so long. I just started at uni and the beginning of the academic year has been insanely busy. This long of a hiatus won’t become a habit though (I say this every time, don’t I? :d) Sorry I haven’t had time to reply to your comments. Each one of them is appreciated and read multiple times. They give me so much motivation to keep going with this story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has patience enough to keep up with this story, truly. Also thank you to @DeboraTRMJ for her fanart, @itzisunset for her beautiful moodboard, @Ziyal_Lia for her help with this chapter and a certain duo from our serquel groupchat who are always so full of incredible hype for this story. You know who you are :D

Raquel was no stranger to being cheated on.

What she was not familiar with was being the other woman, so when she first saw the headlines of King Sergio II’s courtship with Lady Sierra and the photos of her snuggled up against him, the information was hard to process. It felt like her soul had been sucked out of her and searing pain was exploding in her chest, but her mind was having a hard time catching up with the reason why.

Somehow, it felt natural to see Sergio with his arm around a duchess. It was as if she had expected it all along and was now realizing it. She considered the fact with a sort of dull fascination while the rest of her body crumbled in heartbreak.

Then it hit her.

She was the King’s side piece.

An incredulous half-snort-half-sob escaped her, worrying Luis.

“Is everything alright?”

Raquel made a feeble gesture of nonchalance, attempted a smile, failed, and then turned on her heel to leave. 

She made her way home in the quietude of the morning, tears flowing down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them, they would be just replaced by new ones in a heartbeat. She couldn't imagine them ever ceasing.

They were not as much tears of betrayal as they were the ones of a child who had put her fingers onto the stove despite knowing what would happen. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes — wasn't that what they always said?

Raquel had danced with someone who was hers not to dance with and gotten her heart crushed, and she was not even the tiniest bit surprised. 

By the time she reached her front gate, her gown felt heavy enough to crush her with its weight. Her knees could barely hold her up from the exhaustion of carrying her somewhere where she could cry freely. She was so hollow she felt she had left her soul behind her on that island, trapped inside a trampled balloon.

She knew by now there are no such things as fairytales, but why did it have to hurt so damn much every time she learned this lesson? 

* * *

_It is not what it looks like._

It was the only thing he had time to type out.

Before Sergio was able to message Raquel again, to marshal even the feeblest of excuses, explanations, apologies and anything in between, they were taking off and someone, whose requests to turn off his phone had been filtered off in his panic this far, snatched the device away from him. When it was returned to him a moment later, it was in airplane mode and the wheels were off the ground.

So began the longest 9 hours of Sergio's life.

He was not able to nap, read or listen to music like he usually did during his long intercontinental flights. Hell, he could not even eat a single bite or listen to his travel itinerary his aide was laying out on him. It was simply impossible to shift his focus away from the single thought that had consumed his subconscious.

_What is Raquel thinking right now?_

The only thing that was able to make him bear the torture of waiting and his inability to relax a single one of his tight-strung muscles was the hope that when he got there and turned on his phone, there would be a reply from her waiting for him. It could be furious, sad or distraught, as long as it was there, he would be able to hang onto it like a buoy and start salvaging the situation.

He must have looked like a crackhead to his security because the second the wheels touched ground, he was scrambling for his phone like an addict who had gotten hands on his next fix. 

There was not a single phone call from Raquel during the 8 hours. Not even a message.

He was so dumbstruck by the sight that he had to check again. But no, nothing. 

What had flooded his phone, however, were the angry messages from his friends.

_\- What the hell!!! How could you do this to her???!!!_ Read Ágata’s message.

_\- That was fucked up, man,_ Ricardo had sent.

_\- We need to talk about how you led Raquel on last night. Pick up your phone as soon as you can,_ Mónica’s said.

At least Silene’s began promisingly: _Are you okay?_

But when he scrolled down, he saw the rest of her messages.

_\- As in, are you okay in the head? Is everything in working order there? Or is there a gas leak under your throne we don’t know about??_

\- _In any case, call me back with an excellent reason for your behavior last night <3 _

Even Martín had sent him one.

_\- Seriously, Alicia?_

_\- Isn’t she your friend?_ Sergio shot right back.

_\- Yes, and at the risk of repeating myself:_ **_seriously_ ** _?_

Andrés, who had never passed an opportunity to tease Sergio when it came to all and any female company he kept, had not sent him a single message which was probably the harshest judgment of them all. 

Sergio turned off his phone before burying his face in his hands. 

He had fucked up. He had majorly, completely fucked up and there was no way to fix it. Not while he was stuck in Washington D.C. at least. If he was in Madrid, he could already be on his way to Raquel’s doorstep to explain himself and the nature of his and Alicia’s relationship. 

Though he doubted that would make the situation any better. He shouldn’t have gone to the ball and he certainly shouldn’t have lingered long enough for anything to happen, not when he was tied to Alicia. Or better yet, he should have broken off their arrangement before running after Raquel like a lovesick schoolboy.

And now his mistake may have cost him the only woman he’d ever felt this way about.

He penned her a couple of messages, trying his hardest to apologize to her in a way that in no way excused his actions while knowing full well she probably wouldn’t answer. Why would she? He’d be lucky if she even read what he had to say.

That did not stop him from trying. On his way to the hotel he was staying in he kept messaging her, even trying to call her a few times. There was a small flicker of hope in his chest that maybe this time, she would pick up or type a reply. One more message, and maybe she would be willing to hear him out.

He kept his face glued to his phone all the way to the door of his room, the only thing finally able to rouse his attention being the door in question slamming open and Alicia emerging from behind it.

“Finally, _tonto!_ ” she exclaimed in a peculiar tone and dragged him inside from his suit lapel.

Only inside Sergio realized she might have been trying to stage an amorous reunion between them to his security. Reality couldn’t be more different. She started spitting venom the second the door was closed shut behind them.

“Do you have any idea how difficult this last day has been for me?” she hissed out. “I have been forced to play the part of the happiest woman of Europe all day and do you know hard that shit is alone? I could just see in the reporters’ eyes that I was just some arm candy and that you were not truly going to make me your queen. It got so bad I actually had to avoid the very people I had leaked my itinerary to!”

Not knowing what he could possibly answer, Sergio just stood helplessly at the entrance of the room while Alicia started pacing.

“I hope you had your fun today because tomorrow you’ll stay glued to my side 24/7. There cannot be one reporter left who still questions your devotion. You owe it after—“

She stopped short after a glance at Sergio’s face. Something there caught her attention, and soon varying emotions chased each other across her face until her features settled in cool stoicism.

"So who is she?” Alicia asked with a colorless voice.

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid me. Your lips are still caked in lipstick."

When Sergio could not muster a feasible explanation for the particular shade of rouge on his lips, Alicia let out a long-suffering sigh, dropping herself on the bed. “I am glad to see you had a good reason to stay behind and force me to come up with countless diplomatic excuses. But there was no need to go to the trouble of missing your flight, your majesty. If you had only told our hosts, they could have surely provided a hussy to dip your royal dick in.”

“Alicia, I am so sorry—“

“Yeah, whatever. Just fucking be discreet in the future. If I can see that you have been up to a little something-something, then half of the people you encountered while coming here must have as well. I won’t tolerate that sort of humiliation beyond this night, got it? C’mon Sergio, this is some amateur shit. At least take a shower after!”

Her gaze shifted to his hand where he was still holding his phone after texting Raquel for the thousandth time. _Is that her?_ She asked with the arch of her brow.

Before Sergio was able to stop her, Alicia had grabbed the phone. 

"Who is she, anyway? An actress? One of Silene’s party planner friends? Please don’t tell me it is that tacky singer. You are the king, you should have at least some standards even if it is just a hookup,” she said, staring at the latest messages.

She skittered to the other side of the room before Sergio, now angry, could take the phone back and put an end to her snooping. She was quickly scrolling up all the apologies Sergio had sent.

"Jesus. Based on your desperation, she has to be a goddamn lingerie model.”

Sergio had run after her and was just about to snatch the phone out of her hand before she could see Raquel's picture and recognize her. But as it turned out, there was no need. Alicia had stopped scrolling, and was now staring at the top of the screen. There it said the name Sergio had saved her as.

_My Cinderella._

In an instant, Alicia’s face turned ashen. 

“So this is why you were so upset that those pictures got out,” she breathed out after a long silence, her voice a little unsteady. “Sergio, don’t tell me you have actually managed to convince some poor girl that she is the one and only for you?”

She was chuckling, but something in her laughter was off. It sounded almost nervous. Sergio said nothing, just stared at her with his jaw clenched. “Give me my phone back.”

“Not before you answer me,” she snapped. 

At the moment, she resembled frightening much like a lioness whose cub had been threatened. “Have you or have you not been entertaining some delusional girl?” She asked again with a tremulous voice.

A pause.

“She is as far from delusional as can be,” Sergio said calmly.

That was when Alicia slammed Sergio’s phone so hard on the table he could hear its screen crack.

* * *

It took several long and fatiguing hours but at the first rays of sun peaking from behind the curtains, it was over. He had successfully broken off their arrangement.

It had only taken perfect impassivity as Alicia had screamed, threatened him, appealed to his senses, raged, pleaded, argued, thrown around furniture, tried to slap him, tried to flush his phone down the toilet and tried to fling his suitcase out of the window. What had finally made her give up was her bursting into tears after a long rant of how he was never able to find someone as much prepared for this than her.

She had not wanted to see him cry so she’d turned to leave. 

“Good luck consoling your mistress. Hope she has any sense in her head and does not want to see you ever again. You. Ruin. Lives.” 

Those were the final words she spat out before slamming the door shut behind her.

Sergio was left alone, feeling more wretched than ever in his life.

* * *

“Why does someone from Ikea keep calling you?" Her mother asked after noticing Raquel’s phone vibrating on the table.

Raquel sighed. Not again.

Sergio had been calling or texting her ever since noon, after supposedly having landed in Washington D.C. Raquel had yet to pick up a single one of his calls. 

She wasn’t particularly keen on talking to him. She knew the drill. The man was deeply apologetic (because he got caught), promised he would never do it again (Raquel dearly hoped he didn’t have another duchess lined up to cheat on) and then showered her with gifts (she would tape her mailbox shut).

Her mother had luckily slept late which had given Raquel time to dry her tears and practice her story. She had then performed the most banal tale of the events of the ball that Mariví was both satisfied and disappointed in one stroke. She had told her about having fun with a stranger but that the man had to leave early to catch his flight. No salacious details, just unsatisfying mundanity. Her mother had felt the need to ask no further question which lead her to this moment, the two of them having lunch together while her phone rang and rang and the secret bubbled up inside her, making her insides boil.

Perhaps some people would find this flattering. After all, there were always women lining up to become the mistress of a king just for the sake of it. But not Raquel. She liked to think of herself as a good person who only wanted to date good men.

She had thought Sergio was one of those, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had been mistaken in this area.

The day this far had passed by in a daze as she had mechanically performed her duties while simultaneously mulling over the events of the ball. Her utter heartbreak in the morning had subsided from the way of ever-increasing irritation.

Had Sergio really thought she was that kind of a woman? Or had he thought her dumb enough not to find out?

Other questions also plagued her mind: 

How many other women has he done this to? Were they singers too? Was Raquel even the only woman he had fooled around with during his courtship to Alicia Sierra?

She inwardly shook her head. _No._ She couldn’t believe that of Sergio. Perhaps his brother, but not him. 

But the other explanations were not any more flattering. He could have used Alicia as a safety net if he did not get who he truly wanted. Raquel.

That did not seem like him either. 

She couldn't figure out why he had done what he‘d done, and it bothered her. It was like a missing puzzle piece without which she couldn't mourn in peace. If he was just a cheating, egoistic asshole like men caught pulling off stunts like this often were, it would be easy to understand everything that had transpired and be angry at him and move on with complete closure.

However, the image she had of Sergio clashed so strongly with his actions that she was left adrift and helpless. How could she even begin to sustain anger about all this if she couldn't connect the person who she had feelings for with the person who had wronged her? 

If only to give her some peace of my mind, she started doing some digging as she lay in bed later that day, unable to get a wink of sleep.

She started by going through all of the women Sergio had ever been seen with. 

At first, she was only making herself feel worse. A supermodel after supermodel had been photographed in his company. She knew this said nothing about what kind of women he actually dated since any woman who even looked in his direction was rumored to be his most recent fling, but _still_. It must be as easy as breathing for him to get the most gorgeous woman in the room. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had happened more than a few times.

Eventually, she came across something worthwhile. There was a picture of Sergio posing next to a woman in a ridiculously beautiful gown on a rumor blog. She had the same last name as Radko, one of the guards at the palace which interested her. When she clicked the photo, she was directed to the woman’s instagram account where she could see the original caption. 

_My first royal ball! Was photobombed by this random gentleman, wonder if he got anything to do with the gown I was mysteriously gifted for this occassion ;)_

Raquel stared at the words.

She had a bad feeling about this.

She turned on her phone and let it fall on on her chest with a thud as she considered the possibility.

In an instant, her wretchedness made way for anger.

In the end she was so filled with suspicion and fury that her senses blurred. The next thing she knew, she had picked her phone back up and was scrolling down for Sergio’s number in her contacts.

A small part of her was aware that this was a terrible, horrible idea. Another part of her, a large and sweltering part wouldn’t rest until she found out the truth.

So she tapped on his name. It was time to return a call.

The decision to dial his number had been so swift that by the time she realized she was not prepared, it was already too late. Sergio answered on the second ring. 

“Raquel?” He breathed out.

She closed her eyes at the sound of her name from his lips. There was a special quality to it that always weakened her.

“Isn’t it like 4 am there?” She finally asked with a quiet voice.

“Yeah…”

“Where is Alicia?”

“In her room.”

"Did she get her own room because of this?" she asked, making no effort to hide the unconcern from her voice. 

“We aren’t sleeping together. We aren’t sleeping together in _general_ ," he answered, sounding almost offended at her assumption. 

"Is that what I was for?" was her icy response.

“What? No, no, of course not!” Sergio exclaimed, and she could hear him sitting up from the rustling of his sheets. "Raquel, you have no idea how unbelievably sorry I am that you had to see—“

"I have questions. You are going to listen to them and answer. I won't hear anything else,” she said calmly, just like she had rehearsed in her head.

At first, it seemed as if he was considering protesting. Eventually, however, he yielded. "Alright.”

"Were you or were you not dating Alicia Sierra when you started expressing interest in me?”

“It is complicated.”

“It is a simple yes or no question, Sergio.”

There was a long stretch of silence in the other end of the line before he finally answered.

“We had an arrangement.”

“Just as I thought. But what kind of an arrangement?” she asked without missing a beat.

“I was supposed to marry her.”

He continued quickly before Raquel could interrupt him. ”But I do not love her and she doesn't love me. The only reason I picked her was because I thought she would be able to handle it. It was all purely pragmatic.”

"And still you decided to pursue me?” She asked, carving little half moons into her arm with her fingers as she spoke.

"I thought you couldn’t possibly feel the same way for me so I went on with the plan. Only last night I found out I had a chance. How could it not change everything, Raquel?”

Raquel clenched her eyes shut. _Don't let your heart go soft_ , she reminded herself. 

“Did you buy that dress for me?” 

It was the question she had wanted to ask all along, and his stunned silence told her everything.

"So you knew I was going to be here,” she continued.

“No.”

A pause followed as he reconsidered his answer.

“Yes. Sort of.”

Now that she had his confirmation, it was all becoming clear to her. The entirety of the ugly truth behind last night’s magic. 

“You arranged this whole thing,” she whispered, almost incredulous. “You tricked me.”

“It was never my intention to trick—“

“How exactly would you then describe the way you acted last night? You disguised yourself and your voice and let me pretend you were someone else, all with the goal of getting to fool around with me,” she spat out. “Is this some amusing game of yours? Do you often mastermind elaborate plans like this to get women? Buy them pretty dresses and laugh inside when you see them fawn over a charming stranger? Is that what you did to Radko’s sister too?”

She listened to the following deafening silence and determined that she had hit the nail right on the head. 

_But why would he go to all the trouble to do that?_ The question nagged still at the back of her mind. 

Then it struck her.

“I see. Maybe you think being the king is too easy for your love life so you challenge yourself in this way.”

Sergio tried to say something, but Raquel cut through his words, unwilling to listen. ”I’m not some fox you chase into your trap because your life bores you.”

She considered hanging up now that she’d said what she’d wanted to say. Tears were starting to burn behind her eyelids and she did not want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

But for some unknown reason, she stayed on the line, breathing raggedly. 

“Raquel?” Sergio said tentatively. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she said in her smallest voice. 

“The fact that you have not hung up on me should give me some hope. It means you have not completely renounced me. I will speak now, if you may.”

Raquel said nothing, so he continued.

“Radko does not have a sister, but he has a wife I bought a dress for. I did it because I wanted to help, just like I wanted to help when my brother told me there was a woman who needed a dress for the ball. I only found out later it was you. There was never an ulterior motive behind it.”

Raquel thought about it and found that she believed him.

“Last night was not some game to me. I did not purposefully deceive you. I did not reveal myself at first because I did not think it would matter who I was. I only wanted to give you comfort. Then later, I stayed disguised because I thought you much preferred this stranger to real me. And I have to admit I was selfish enough to keep pretending if only to buy me more time with you. But for what it is worth, I did not lie to you once after the mask was off.”

“But you did. You told me Alicia wasn’t your girlfriend. You told me you weren’t going to pursue anything with her. You told me there was no one else for you,” she said, easily listing his lies after spending the last day preoccupied with them.

“Alicia never was my girlfriend. I considered her a business partner in my mind. You would have to feel something for your girlfriend, which I didn’t. And no, after last night I decided not to pursue anything with her. Even if we had shared only a single kiss, it would have been enough to break off our agreement. And when I told you there was no one else… In the sense I was talking, there isn't. Hasn’t been for as long as I remember.”

The longing was so palpable in his voice, Raquel felt a sting in her heart. _Oh, why it was so hard to hold onto her anger?_

“I should have told you about Alicia,” Sergio continued with a weak voice. “I was so afraid that you would be scared away by it, and I wanted you too bad.”

“It still did not make it right.”

“I know. And I want to tell you it is over now. The first thing I did after arriving was to put an end to the deal. She... she did not take it well.”

That Raquel could imagine.

“What about the state dinner?”

“I am going without her.”

She thought about Alicia alone in her room, suddenly abandoned before possibly the biggest public event in her life. She must have been prepared for this role for years, only to have the rug pulled out from under her feet because of the king’s last-minute change of heart. She might never be able to shake off the scandal and the rumors. It was a far crueler fate than she deserved.

“You cannot do that to her,” she said sternly. “Not after you made this all official. You would humiliate her in front of two nations.”

“You think I should go with her?” Sergio asked, surprised.

The next words were awfully difficult to utter, and her voice broke a little as she said them. "Yes. You should.”

“You screwed both of us over,” she continued. “The least you can do is try to make her suffer as little as possible. And you made a deal with her. You should honor it, at least for a couple of months. Let her exit gracefully.”

Her heart was screaming, begging for her to tell him to do the very opposite. The selfish part of her wanted him to fly back to Spain and take her into a nice little restaurant like they’d planned and hold her afterwards in his arms and tell her how he regretted not doing this the very first night he saw her.

But that vision was too beautiful to be true. Always had been. 

“A couple of months?” Sergio repeated.

“Or more, in case you change your mind.”

A heavy silence followed. 

"If that is what you think I should do, I will do it,” he finally said, weary. ”But Raquel, I need to know if we still—“

“I will return you the dress as soon as possible,” she interrupted.

Then she hung up.

* * *

Miraculously enough, Raquel was able to fall into fitful sleep after the conversation. However, when she finally woke up in the morning, her sheets kicked off to the ground and her sweaty sleep shirt clinging to her skirt, she did not feel like she had rested at all.

But it wasn't as if she'd ever be able to go back to sleep, not now when the memories of last night had already consumed her conscience. Besides, it was already 10 am. She shouldn't stay in the bed any longer. 

When Raquel arrived downstairs, the TV was on. Her mother was watching it from her usual spot with a bowl of cereal in her lap. She was watchin a news broadcast about the royal state visit on. Raquel felt her blood freeze. While she had been asleep, it had all come to pass. He had did it. 

Marivi let out a distinct “Hmph” as they showed Sergio standing next to Alicia and the president of US with his wife. Even louder and more dissatisfied noise followed as the king was shown escorting Alicia to the dinner, cameras flashing all around them.

He looked miserable. 

The small amount of pleasure the sight was able to give her did improve her mood. It was as hazy and murky as ever. She turned her gaze from the TV and spoke up.

"Morning, mamá."

Mariví started as if she had been caught red-handed in the middle of an highly-questionable activity. She immediately turned the TV off and the strangest sprinkle of guilt flashed across her face. As if she had somehow hurt her daughter's feelings by allowing her to see that.

It was ridiculous. Why would she pained by something she ordered him to do herself?

And yet...

Mariví looked at loss what to say for a moment, perhaps unable to judge the expression on her daughter's face, before she finally decided to mutter something in her most motherly, disapproving tone possible. 

“He did not mention having a girlfriend when he visited our house."

Indeed, he hadn’t, Raquel thought bitterly, but she pushed that thought aside. 

“Mamá....why would have that been relevant?” Raquel sighed.

"Would have just been useful to know," she said, pursing her lips.

An awkward silence descended into the room. Mariví attempted to break it by turning the TV back on, only to discover that they were still broadcasting about the state visit and the screen was filled with Alicia's smiling face as she tittered intimately with the first lady. Mariví let out an almost inaudible curse and quickly changed the channel. 

“I don’t think she is his type, you know," she said in a rather flippant matter, as if Sergio had personally offended her by his choice of a girlfriend. 

Perhaps he had.

"His dating choices hardly matter to me," Raquel said with a lifeless shrug and turned to walk into the kitchen. She could make an educated guess that her face had showcased the exact amount of a heartbreak seeing the object of her admiration with someone else brought forth because a moment later, Mariví had followed her into the kitchen with the most tender smile on her face.

“You know, I thought he might have a crush on you,” she said softly.

“Mamá…”

“I know, I know. I’m just being a silly old goose. He was just such a gentleman… oh well, I suppose genuinely good men would give off that feeling even if they were not in love.” She looked away with a tired smile on her face. “Can you blame me for wanting you to have him instead of this Lady Sierra?”

 _But I did have him_ , she thought. _Not, Lady Sierra, me._

She only shook her head with a noncommittal expression on her face because what was she supposed to say? _You are not wrong mamá. He brought back my earring. He built us a cabinet. He missed a flight because of me. He came to a ball because of me. He wanted me. He wanted me. He wanted me enough to choose me over a duchess._

But she couldn’t. That was a secret she would have to guard for now, perhaps forever. Sergio would appreciate her not spreading a word of his misstep, not even to her own mother.

That was the price she had to pay for her own mistake of falling under his spell, wasn’t it?

After realizing she could do little to comfort a person who refused to be comforted, her mother left the room and Raquel turned her attention to the dishes. They would provide a good reason to stay away from Mariví’s keen eye for a precious half an hour.

After scrubbing and cleaning for a good while, she lifted her gaze and saw her reflection on the window. Only after noticing her cheeks were streaked did she realize she had been quietly crying.

She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to pretend the rest of her life he meant nothing to her.

* * *

Sergio started trying to contact her again some hours later when morning rose on the other side of the world. She knew she had to let him talk to her again at some point, but the prospect made her nervous. She did not want to forgive him, not yet. It could lead to her ending up back in his arms and to even more heartbreak if he chose Alicia, or any other woman more suitable as his consort.

She was probably deluding herself by thinking if instead of when. The masquerade the other day was fun, but it was time to wake up to the reality, shine a mirror on her face and truly think whether she was royal girlfriend material. 

He filled her day with activities to avoid thinking about the mess she was in until she was so preoccupied that she missed both an email, a call and a text message from her lawyer. In the end, it took her mother tapping her in the head with the landline to get her attention. 

With the way her past few days had gone, she half expected her lawyer to notify her of some mammoth-sized extra fee she had forgotten to pay. However, the news couldn't be more contrary. 

Her complaint of the custody decision had been accepted.

There was a court date.

The news struck her so numb that it was only when Mariví grabbed the phone to hear it herself and started squealing out of joy that it dawned on her.

She could get full custody. Alberto would never get near her daughter again.

She was so happy she spent an embarrassingly long while hopping and hugging her mother. All of the morning’s misery was but a distant memory as she danced around the room with her before rushing back to the phone to promise to send her lawyer the biggest bouquet of flowers money could buy.

After that, she almost took Sergio’s call the next time he tried to contact her just so she could tell him. Luckily, she came to her senses just as she’d grabbed the phone. Instead, she called Mónica, Ágata, Silene and Agustín to tell them the news.

God, it was nice to have friends again.

Her mother opened up a bottle of wine they had been saving and together, they drank it whole and talked about how they would be able to win this.

She would just have to lead an immaculate existence until the court date, that much was clear. She had to have papers as clean as freshly-fallen snow by the time Alberto’s lawyer got his hands on them.

Her mother joked about going to buy her the most boring pantsuit the judge had ever seen to help her win the case, but Raquel did not laugh.

Now she was thinking about Sergio. He cast a shadow over the whole joyful matter.

What happened at the ball could never happen again. If the press were to somehow find out about Sergio’s other woman…

Even the most boring pantsuit in the world would not save her then.

* * *

As if Sergio had known what kind of thoughts had been tormenting her these past few hours, he later sent her a message that balled them all in one painful knot in her chest.

_Just because I am gonna keep up the facade with Alicia for a few months does not mean I won't wish you were with me instead._

Raquel pinched her eyes shut and let out a deep, shuddery breath before typing out her answer.

She thought he deserved an explanation for what she was about to say, so she told him everything. She told him the bare bones of what came to the relationship between her and Alberto (she did not want to disturb him with the details), the divorce, the custody case, even her job situation. She told him about how lonely this had all been, and how many times she’d already fallen apart. She told him about how betrayed she still felt, and how being involved with him would potentially destroy everything she’d tried to piece together.

She ended her message with five little words that were harder to type than anything else in her long, miserable tale.

_I cannot be with you._

* * *

After she sent him the message, Sergio’s attempts to contact her only increased. She did not have the heart to block him so she only left his messages unread and did not answer his calls. With time, his requests to speak with her shrank into a trickle and in the end, disappeared. He had gotten the message.

She had wanted him to give up, and yet, the thought of it caused her immeasurable pain.

But she had no time to dwell on her failed romance, no matter how insistently it bled into her every thought. She had to get her life in order.

First order of business was getting herself a semi-stable job. Luckily, Prieto was able to book her a series of gigs in Madrid and its vicinity with the help of her new surge of popularity because of the King’s interest in her music. Prieto tried to also convince her to consider getting a vacancy at a holiday resort popular with tourists but she gently declined. She was not quite that desperate yet.

Besides that, she reached out to an old friend in music circles and managed to score some song commissions. It was the next best thing to getting to write her own music, but before the moon fell from the sky and Prieto let her do something as risky as record a new album, it was all she had. With these two sources of income combined, she could keep her household afloat for another few months.

With her career troubles out of her mind, she focused on spending time with her family. She made a lot of new memories with Paula during these few weeks, taking her to an amusement park and swimming pool and cinema with her commission money, not forgetting to play and talk with her any chance she got. Came what came in the custody case, she would at least show her how loved she was.

When Paula was with Alberto, she took up a lot of productive hobbies to keep her mind off her troubles. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to stick. She was not made for crocheting or gardening or DIY projects. The closest she came to a domestic goddess the judge was probably looking for was when she managed to bake half-burnt blueberry muffins.

Still, she managed to keep busy and before she even realized it, her new, healthy and uncomplicated life was in full throttle.

She still followed gossip about the King’s comings and goings but for one good reason only; she needed to know when he was out of Madrid and plan her actions accordingly.

She still had the gown and her conscience couldn’t stand the thought of it hanging in a garment bag at the back of her closet much longer. It was the last reminder of how complicated her life had threatened to turn just a few weeks ago and she got the most painful sensation in her gut whenever she accidentally caught a glimpse of it. 

She needed to return it, but she couldn’t just do it any day. She had to wait for the King to leave the town so he wouldn’t try to stop her and then act. She had gotten his assistant’s number from Silene. All she had to do was to do when the suitable opportunity came was to call the assistant, arrange a time for her to drop off the dress and then move on with her life as if her one magical night with the King had never happened.

The chance of a lifetime came when she read that Sergio was receiving visitors at the royal family’s Catalonian palace in Barcelona. The guests were none other than the prince of Sweden and his wife. Raquel was not exactly surprised, she could imagine royalty barbecuing at each other’s places all the time, cracking jokes about polo and jousting and whatever else non-horse related hobbies they had.

She waited a day to be sure that he was out of town before giving his assistant a call. She told her to come at 4 at the earliest and that was when she hopped into her car and drove to the palace, the garment bag on the backseat.

It was a rather massive thing to carry up the same stairs she had escaped after her first visit here, but she was too embarrassed to ask for help from his staff. She had a nagging suspicion that they somehow knew exactly what had been brewing between the King and his favorite singer and would treat her in a particular way because of it. She didn’t want that, she just wanted to shove the garment bag in the assistant’s arms and run back home and never think about this again.

Soon after, she met with his assistant, an elderly woman who stared at her with a curiously knowing expression once she introduced herself.

“Follow me,” she said instead of relieving Raquel of the garment bag and started walking slowly down the hall. She had no choice but to trail after her.

They arrived in a room that had to be the portrait gallery. There were some chairs and tables in the middle and by the sides, supposedly meant for Raquel and other visitors who either wanted to admire the paintings or were waiting for their meeting to start. Raquel was not exactly sure what she was waiting for, but she sat down anyway after the assistant left her alone.

She let her eyes travel from one painting to another. There were portraits from kings from several centuries, starting as early as the 1400s and going all the way to the present day with King Alfonso and his son King Sergio II in the leftmost corner. She briefly considered King Alfonso’s serious features and the solemn look in his eyes before her gaze moved to where it truly longed to be. Sergio.

He was portrayed next to an ornate chair he was taking support from, a pair of white gloves in his hand. He was dressed in a regal but simple military uniform with a blue sash draped across his shoulder and golden insignia pinned on his chest. In his right hand was a ceremonial sword. 

But what drew Raquel’s eyes was not on the regalia nor the uniform. It was the look on his face. She rose from her seat to approach the painting and regard it closer.

His features were serious and somewhat rigid just as his father’s, but he did not address the spectator with his eyes in the same way. Instead, he was not quite looking in front of him, as if his attention had been caught by something in the background. The overall effect of it was as if he was lost in some faraway daydream.

Raquel found herself liking the portrait far more than any other in the room. It somehow gave off a sincere feel. Like he did not pretend to be a powerful ruler, just a man in a position he did not feel completely confident in.

Her eyes shifted to his soft brown eyes in the portrait and stayed there for a while, pondering why exactly she had not seen how handsome he was before this autumn.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the most unexpected of sounds. 

“Raquel,” a familiar voice exhaled behind her.

At once, heart jumped into her throat, lodged there and threatened to choke her.

Despite the overpowering urge to flee, her feet grew roots and glued her to the floor. She couldn’t even turn around to confirm whether it was truly the man she least wanted to see in the whole world.

She didn’t need to, for Sergio took a step sideways until he was in her field of vision, but still a five feet distance away. There was a tentative expression on his face, but as Raquel did little else than stare at him like a rabbit in the headlights, he was emboldened to move.

That and the realization that he had seen her gape at his portrait was what finally launched her into the fight or flee mode. He took a step closer and she immediately retreated five back.

“I thought you were in Barcelona”, she said quickly, probably too quickly for Sergio to comprehend what she was saying and yet, the man knew exactly what she had been about to utter.

“I heard from my assistant that you were coming to return that gown. So I… came.”

Of course she knew Sergio would probably be notified that she was coming to bring the dress, but he had hoped he would be far enough by then to be unable to do anything about it. What she hadn’t accounted for was his willingness to drop everything and travel over 600 kilometers across the country just to see her.

“You can’t just leave them, they- they are royalty!” she stammered, moving behind a table as if it could provide a barricade between them. Sergio simply followed her there, but by that point she had already shielded herself behind a row of chairs.

“They’ll be fine, they have my netflix password,” he said, walking toward her with his eyes intently fixed on hers.

 _Fuck_ , she wished she had put at least a little bit more make-up before coming here. How had she not anticipated this? Though Sergio did not seem to mind. He was looking at her like she was his favorite painting in the whole room.

“You cannot seriously be telling me that you planted the prince of Sweden in front of a telly while you drove all the way for a gown!” was her next strangled exclamation as she skittered away from, abandoning the tactic of putting furniture between them.

“I did not come here for a gown, Raquel,” he said softly, abandoning his pursuit. Instead, he just stood there and watched her with an impossibly longing expression.

 _Why, why, why?_ Why did he have to come here with his velvety grace and puppy eyes? She had been doing so well too… this would set her back all the way to the starting line.

The room felt small and hot and suffocating with him in it, but still she tried to gather her thoughts together. She had two choices; she could either melt in front of him like some soft-hearted damsel or she could face him. She could get a grip and act like a functioning adult and get this done once and for all. It wasn’t like she had never had to deal with running into a one date ex before.

Thought Sergio felt significantly more than just one date ex…

In the end, she went with the second approach even thought it required more grit and willpower than she potentially had within her at the moment.

“Well, _I_ did come here because of the gown. So here.”

She took two giant, determined steps in his direction and shoved the garment bag into his arms. Sergio’s face did bewildered somersault from soft determination to alarm.

“As you can see if you open the bag, it is in pristine condition,” she said calmly even though her insides were quivering like jelly.

Sergio made no effort to open the bag.

“It was a gift,” he stated simply, trying to hand the garment bag back to her.

In the process, his fingers brushed hers. The electric shock of his touch made Raquel immediately withdraw her hand and let out the most pathetic little gasp she had ever made in her life. Luckily, it had been muted and soft enough not to reach Sergio’s ears, but just the knowledge of it still made her face burn.

Something flashed in Sergio’s eyes at the recognition of how his touch had affected her, but whatever it was, he did not reveal it to Raquel and adopted an frustratingly uncommunicative expression instead.

“You cannot gift something expensive to another woman when you have a girlfriend,” she said with a low, threatening tone, reminded him of the reason they had had a falling out in the first place.

“You know which way I would truly want things to be,” he said with a low voice, sounding strained. Almost tortured.

The look in his eyes made the walls of Raquel’s throat to close up.

Her next few words were a battle to choke out, and she couldn’t face his eyes. "I told you. There are a lot of very, very good reasons why it can’t be. So don’t say things like that Sergio. Please don’t.”

He took a step closer. “Raquel-“

Something in his voice made Raquel lift her eyes, now a little angry. “You cannot just come here and expect to win me over with a little speech and a dance. Did you not even read my message? Or do you just not care? Am I just-“

“Raquel, your message is the reason why I am here,” he exclaimed, now throwing all caution to the wind and marching to her side.

“Did you think I could just read all that and not care?” He cried, gesturing almost as if in sort of mad frenzy. “Do you think I have no heart at all, that I could just stay away when all this is going on in your life?”

His voice was so anguished and his face twisted in such pain that it caught Raquel off guard. Her message must have affected more than she’d thought. The realization caused a strange feeling balloon in her chest until it was hard to breathe.

“I-“ she began, then stopped, clueless what to say. She felt a compelling need to sit down so she did, and Sergio seated himself right next to her on the bench, gingerly taking her hand. 

“Like it or not, Raquel, I care for you. I want to be there for you. I want to give you whatever support I can. And I understand everything you told me, and that is why my friendship is the only thing I am offering.”

Her heartbeat was echoing in her head and she was barely able to process his words. She was too overwhelmed by the warmth of his hand in hers and the sincere concern shining from his eyes. 

“Will you accept it? He asked softly after she had been silent for a long while.

She felt like all her doubts and bitterness about his actions were evaporating off her, and it was scaring her because if she did not have her resentment, what was truly keeping her from accepting his friendship?

“Your life is as busy as it is,” she muttered, not quite sure how else to deflect. “You don’t need me to worry about on top of it.”

Sergio started smiling a little. “I am afraid it is too late. You have already carved an irreparable hole in my life.”

Raquel felt like her heart was being squeezed with a hydraulic press. Every bone in her body was screaming this was a bad idea, but god, she wanted nothing more right now than to let him back into her life. Even if it was only this way and not what her soul was pleading for.

“You are too sweet for your own good,” she sighed, entwining her fingers with his, giving in. She had no strength left to defy him.

He glanced at their clasped hands before quickly fixing his gaze on her again. “I guess that's why they keep calling me the sap king in the press.” 

Raquel let out an offended little puff of air. “You are my sap king.”

Immediately, she reconsidered what she’d said. She continued, flustered: “I mean-“

“I get what you are saying,” Sergio said with a nervous chuckle, only a hint of pink on his cheeks.

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back, and as she gazed into his warm brown eyes, she felt like someone had pushed a piece back into her chest that had been missing since she saw the headlines.

“I’m really glad you understand,” she exhaled, suddenly feeling very thankful she had his support.

“Of course. And thank you for not slapping me the second you saw me. God knows I deserve it,” he said abashedly, earning himself a teasing smile from Raquel.

“So, even at the risk of sounding like preschooler; be my friend?” Sergio then asked.

She nodded with a small smile, feeling like the happiest fool in the world.

Sergio glanced at the garment bag in her lap.

"So, can friend gift another friend a ball gown?" 

"No if the gown is made out of pure silk," Raquel answered with a snort. _Or if you kissed her in that gown_ , she thought in secret.

“Can I at least sell it to you?” he tried.

Raquel’s face twisted. “I cannot afford it. The fabric alone must cost easily over 1,000 euros.”

“How about I cut you a deal? Half the price just so that I can get it out of my hands.”

As loathe it was to admit, she actually considered it. She really, really wanted to keep that dress. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing she’d ever owned and parting with it also felt like parting with the memories of that beautiful night she’d worn it. But the price was still too steep. She couldn't justify spending so much money on a frivolity at this time in her life.

At the sight of Raquel’s deep contemplation, Sergio relented. “200 euros, take it or leave it.”

She let out a laugh. “Are you trying to bargain? Because this is not how bargaining works, you are supposed to drive the price up, not down.”

Despite the gigantic price drop, Raquel was still considering saying no which he seemed to sense because he quickly switched tactics. 

“Tell you what, the dress is yours if you do a favor for me.”

“What kind of a favor?” Raquel asked, doubtful that just any favor could be worth that expensive of a dress.

“It is a translation job. From Basque to Spanish. I know you are fluent in it.”

She didn’t remember whether she’d told him or whether he read it from an interview, but she was flattered nonetheless. But she still had to refuse. “Oh no, I cannot possibly accept the gown just for translating some brief text for you-“

“You would accompany me as my translator to a Basque-language opera performance next weekend.”

Raquel was so taken aback by the request that her next question burst out of her without conscious thought. “You want to go to a Basque language opera?”

“Yes, I am interested in seeing what I have helped fund. The crown has been supporting Basque arts for 15 years now,” he clarified.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Raquel breathed out.

She did know, but at the moment it felt embarrassing to admit that she’d felt a perplexing fluttering in her stomach the first time she heard about the King’s decision to support her culture. 

“Anyway, it is an easy job. You would only have to sit next to me at the opera and tell me what is going so I don’t seem like an imbecile when we go meet the performers later,” he chuckled nervously.

Her mind was suddenly consumed with the image of sitting in the dark opera booth alone with him, his hand on her knee, slowly drifting higher and higher up her thigh with the rest of the audience none the wiser…

“Silene and Aníbal are coming too.”

“Ah.”

She felt the sudden need to deflect. “If it is such an easy job, why do I get paid so generously?”

“Royal translators are paid 100 euros an hour.” 

“100 euros?! Holy f—“

She covered her mouth before she managed to curse once again in front of him, but instead of turning his nose up at the vulgarity, he just let out his sweet, slightly snorting laugh. She loved that sound.

Just by agreeing to this, she would get to keep the dress and enjoy a night at the opera listening to her own language, an expense that would otherwise be outrageous. It wasn’t a bad idea if Silene and Aníbal would be there too, _right_?

“Alright, I’ll come with you,” she finally agreed, squeezing at the garment bag in her lap. “But just as friends. This… this is not a date.”

“Of course,” Sergio said solemnly.

"And I am doing this only out of pity because I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself in front of my people,” she teased.

"It is much appreciated, Raquel,” he said, giving her a million gigawatt smile that made her knees quiver. So much so that she’d better make her exit now.

“You’ll text me the details, right? I should—“

“Right, of course.”

They stood up together.

She was so preoccupied whether she should lay a traditional parting kiss on his cheek as friends did or simply shake his hand like a business associate that she ended up doing neither. Instead, she simply lifted her hand to his shoulder and squeezed it like she was a baseball coach giving support to the weakest link of the team before turning around immediately to flee.

As she skittered away, her face radiating various colors of the rainbow, there was only one question in her mind.

_What had she gotten herself into?_

* * *

Sergio was left alone in the portrait room. He absent-mindedly stroked the spot Raquel had touched before sinking down onto a bench, his hand still on his own shoulder. He then lowered his head in his hand and was silent for a long moment.

_What had he gotten himself into?_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel and Sergio are confused about the concept of friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It took a while. Sorry about that.
> 
> Thank you, thank you for your continuous support of this fic despite my sporadic updates! 
> 
> Shoutout to Ziyal_Lia for her beta help and for writing the beautiful lyrics to the opera. Everyone else, please enjoy this chapter. I hope the extra length makes up for the wait 🙏🏻

There really should be a manual for what to wear to an opera a King is taking you to. And not just any king, a king she should under no circumstances, even accidentally, seduce.

Her life really had taken a strange turn after the night she sang at the palace, she thought as she stared at the outfits she had laid down on her bed, in order from glorified napkins to the most Sunday school teacher adjacent.

She had some nice dresses she had used at award ceremonies and release parties, enough for her to have a choice on the matter, but that made it all the harder. She didn’t want Sergio to think she was trying to throw herself at him, but she also didn’t want to look like an androgynous potato sack in his presence. For a reason she couldn‘t explain, she still wanted him to look at her the same way he had when he’d seen her for the first time. Just the memory of it made her skin prickle and her mind wander to all the dreams she’d had about that night.

No. She shouldn’t think about that — nor plan in her head how to draw his eyes to her tonight. She was there as his friend and his interpreter, not as his date. 

She sighed as she ran her fingers over her favorite dress, the one she might have worn if Sergio had taken her to that nice little restaurant. It was better this way, that he hadn’t even gotten the chance, only for her to back out once she realized how bad of an idea dating a king would be. But still, she couldn’t help but feel a little ache in her chest as she considered what could have been.

Oh well, it was not as if it was her first time crushing on someone unavailable to her. She just needed to keep him at arm’s length, which is why she had to discard most of her outfits.

In the end, she narrowed her choice down to a long evening gown with a deep v neck and a snug, shorter gown that turned transparent beyond the knees. She thought about going with the former and modestly hiding herself underneath a shawl, but then thought about the possibility of something happening to said shawl and treating Sergio to an all-night display of her assets. She went with the lacy dress instead and put aside all the other choices.

She put on her underwear, drew on her pantyhose and took one last look at herself in the mirror. After a moment’s consideration, she applied a coat of cherry red lipstick only to wipe it off the next moment. She wasn’t sure which red was too red for presumed innocence. In the end, drawing his attention on her lips was probably not the best idea after all that had transpired between them. 

She inwardly scoffed at the ridiculous turn her thoughts had taken before reapplying her lipstick. Sergio was not going to ravish her right there and then just because there was some color on her lips. 

Next, she slowly zipped herself up in her dress. It was tighter than she remembered, snugly caressing every curve of her body. She decided it wasn’t a problem, the only way he would notice was if he deliberately stared, which she felt he wouldn’t. Again she felt the need to remind herself that he was the most refined gentleman of all of Spain, not some schoolboy.

Although _she_ certainly felt like a schoolgirl herself, fussing over her appearance to the point of absurdity.

Before she could rethink her outfit or lipstick once again, she fled from all the mirrors in her room to the ground floor to start her agonizing wait for her non-date.

She was sitting on the couch, staring at the clock when the sound of the door opening made her heart almost leap out of her throat. After excluding the ridiculous option that Sergio had somehow magicked a key to her house, she realized it was her mother coming home earlier than expected. 

She really, really hoped she would have stayed out longer. 

“I’m home,” she sang as she shed her jacket. She almost did a double-take as she saw her daughter sitting there, all dolled up on a Wednesday night.

“What is the occasion, cariño?” she asked with wide eyes.

Saving her from answering, she saw the headlights of a car as it drove into their driveway. She leaped up from her seat and zoomed past her with the speed of a lightning bolt.

“Just going to the opera with the King. Don’t wait up on me.”

Her mother’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets.

“Wha—“

She couldn’t hear the rest as the door had already shut behind her and she was skittering to the car.

“Oh god, I feel I just detonated a bomb in there.”

“Hmm?”

She looked left and saw it was a stranger in a driver’s uniform she had been talking to, not Sergio. He looked startled, probably not used to his passengers sitting on the front seat or talking about blowing up their house.

Embarrassment instantly made her cheeks burn. Of course, it wouldn’t be Sergio who came to pick her up. What had she expected? 

God, she really needed to get used to royal chauffeurs whisking her away whenever she was meeting him. This was no date night where the guy picked you up for a late night of food and dancing. 

_Not that this was a date night in any case_ , she thought and cursed at herself.

Her mother was already calling her by the time she had opened the door and planted herself on the backseat, but Raquel muted her phone instead of answering. She had no good explanation to give for this non-date as of now. 

* * *

The car arrived at the Royal Opera House some time later, and Raquel had the chance to see the photographers camped everywhere around the building as they drove past. She swallowed. She had certainly underestimated the press’ interest in the King’s visit to the opera. 

Instead of the driver pushing her out the door and leaving her to fend for herself in the sea of paparazzi, he ducked behind the opera house where there was a special, secluded area restricted from the crowd. Raquel was able to exit the car with the press being none the wiser and was instantly escorted to a tent that seemed to serve as a safe harbour for the guests. She was grateful to Sergio for arranging it so.

After walking past a man that she was fairly sure was the president of France, Raquel started to question whether Sergio had put her in the right place after all, but did not have time to ponder about it for long before she was accosted. 

"Señora Murillo?" asked a tall, elegantly dressed woman Raquel did not recognize.

"That is me."

"Good. Come with me."

It was more of a demand than a request, and soon Raquel found herself being briskly walked toward a secluded room inside the tent. When inside, she was immediately surrounded by other smartly dressed women. 

“Fix her make-up. And those gloves have got to go.”

“Wait, what is this?” Raquel asked as one of the girls started guiding her to a makeup table.

“Ah, I am sorry, you must be confused. I’m Julia, his majesty’s PR coordinator. Since you’re going to be his special guest tonight, we’re just going to do a quick prep.”

A quick prep seemed to entail completely redoing Raquel’s make-up and fixing her with jewellery she couldn’t even dream of affording. She also witnessed her gloves being unceremoniously disposed of in the trash in front of her eyes in favor of a black pair made of pure silk. Her purse was also replaced and her hair released to flow on her shoulders.

The red lipstick was the only thing they did not touch so at least Raquel wouldn’t have to cry herself to sleep for being a complete failure at dressing herself for the opera. 

Her terseness seemed to be noticed by Julia who offered her an apologetic smile. “I am sorry. If it helps, Lady Sierra also has to go through this process often.”

Raquel did not know what to think about being compared to Alicia in this context so she said nothing about the matter. “But why is this necessary?”

“I am only here to make tonight as painless as possible for you. It is because of those vultures outside. They will exploit any and all possible wardrobe malfunctions, no matter how minor. Even the tiniest of holes in your hosiery could give them a story so we’re just eliminating everything that might get their blood racing. It is for your own good.”

“Oh I am used to that sort of stuff. One photographer managed to get a shot of my sideboob at the AMAS. We all had a good laugh.”

Julia pursed her lips. “ _Bonita_ , you’re in the King’s suite tonight. It is no longer a laughing matter. Unless you want to get called ‘the royal tart’ for the next century, you give those vicious creatures nothing.”

She proceeded to instruct Raquel exactly what she needed to do in order to give them nothing. This included a specific method of exiting and entering vehicles, holding up her hem and finally, the importance of shielding cleavage whenever she descended a flight of stairs. 

“Just like Princess Diana,” she said and demonstrated a graceful descent down the stairs with her clutch. She then pointed at Raquel. “She is also a great example of how this can all go tits up for people like you.”

“Oh, I am not exactly in the same league as Princess Diana—“

“Sure, _chiquita_. Now, let’s get you to the King. Sebastian will take you.”

* * *

Sebastian, as it turned out, was a very handsome security guard set to escort her through the many hallways of the opera house. The man had wavy, golden hair and an easy smile and perhaps, perhaps if Raquel hadn’t damned herself by falling for the King, she might enjoy the man’s flirtatious banter.

God, how much easier her life would be if she was enamored with someone like him instead. 

The man led her up to a balcony that was overlooking the lobby where most of the guests were gathered. But up here, the security appeared to be doubled and only gentlemen with sleek tailored suits and ladies bedecked in jewels were present. Once again, Raquel felt like an outsider. She only wished she would be taken to Sergio soon and, alone with him, she would get to breathe for a moment.

However, soon after, she recognized around whom everyone in the room seemed to be circled.

Raquel immediately felt hesitant about her earlier wish, but none the wiser Sebastian still kept walking, taking her through the crowd to Sergio who was rapt in a conversation with someone who looked no less than an earl, a drink in his hand and polite laughter on his lips.

“Your Majesty!” called out Sebastian, unable to read Raquel’s thoughts where she demanded him to do the opposite. “I have brought you your interpreter.”

Sergio slowly turned his head toward her, and Raquel was finally able to see him in all his majestic glory.The King in an impeccable suit, insignia on his lapel, his soft dark curls falling perfectly on his forehead. His lips curved into a smile, that smile that always lit up his face when he saw her. 

Raquel suddenly felt shy, uncomfortable with the notion of so many people witnessing something that had existed only in private moments between them this far. It felt like everyone could see right through them.

But in just a fraction of a second, his expression morphed to stone. Sergio reached his hand for her, and after freezing only for a second, Raquel shook his hand limply.

“Everyone, this is my favorite artist and friend Raquel Murillo,” he introduced. “You might have heard some of her songs. She’ll be acting as my interpreter tonight.”

People then stared at her like an exotic pet. Raquel bit the inside of her tongue, praying that Sergio would soon excuse himself and whisk her away from all these gawkers. But no such thing happened. In mere seconds, his attention was grabbed by another lofty gentleman, leaving Raquel alone in her agitation. Even Sebastian had abandoned her, moving back to talk with the other security guards.

Well, this was definitely far from the intimate affair she'd envisioned, Raquel thought and started wringing her hands in awkwardness. 

Once again, she was forced to call out her own foolishness. Sergio was no regular man, of course he would have an impenetrable wall of admirers around him at all times with his personal protection officers eyeing Raquel like she had a tiny dagger in her clutch. 

The worst part, however, was the fact that Sergio was very aggressively pretending she did not exist. He had not acknowledged her even once after introducing her to everyone, nor as much as glanced in her direction. All the while he had the most beautiful women in Spain tittering at his jokes.

Perhaps this would be tolerable if there was absolutely any member of the Scandalous seven present, but Silene and Aníbal were nowhere in sight. All she had was politely interested aristocrats who wandered away from her after satisfying their curiosity either on the topic of the Basque language and how funny it sounded or how she came up with “Mira como se va.” 

After only three such conversations, she felt strongly that she needed a drink. But even her attempt to chase down the nearest waiter for a glass of champagne was thwarted by men suddenly starting to round up everyone in the room.

“If I could have a brief moment of your time for some photos,” announced a man with heavy camera equipment around his neck. He was undoubtedly from a prestigious news outlet or from Sergio’s own PR team to be allowed inside, but Raquel still looked at him warily. She really did not want her face plastered anywhere.

Someone guided her right into the throng of the high society guests, next to Sergio. She felt she had no choice but to stay there and allow herself to be immortalized as some hussy the King had to be sleeping with. 

Then, she felt a hand on the small of her back and heard a voice in her ear.

“Go stand in the back,” whispered Sergio.

She offered a shaky nod before doing as told. She zigzagged to the spot where she thought she would be the least visible. This did not seem to please the photographer. 

"Can we get the King and his little songbird next to each other?” he requested.

He did not ask again after receiving the look equivalent to that of hacking someone into pieces with a meat axe from Sergio.

About five dozen or so pictures were taken with various sets of people right around Sergio at different points, but Raquel never moved from her spot. Finally, the photographer packed up his equipment, visibly disappointed after being unable to fulfill his vision, and Raquel could breathe again.

There was an announcement from the loudspeakers that the performance would begin soon and guests were asked to go to their seats, once again obstructing Raquel from that drink she had been craving. Even worse, she was forced to wait around uncomfortably as Sergio finished up every single conversation he had been having.

Soon, it was only her, Sergio, and the security staff left. He had just sent off the last person he had been talking to, and she felt inexplicably nervous. A fear persisted in her head of him walking off without remembering she was there.

Then again, he had been protective of her before so he had to be aware of her presence to some extent. But perhaps that was all she could ask for. Him safeguarding her privacy but not doing much else to ensure her comfort. It was hard to understand, after all, he had been so attentive to her before.

But then he turned and looked at her, really looked at her without shielding the expression in his eyes like before. It made her stomach do a somersault.

He walked up to her with that look unwavering on his features. “Are you alright?” he gently whispered before taking her hand and massaging it, as if trying to replace their wooden handshake from earlier with something more intimate. “I am sorry I couldn’t get to you before. I figured… I figured it would be for the best.”

She then finally understood why he had been so distant before. He had not wanted the others to see the tender flame that tethered them to each other, the same concern she’d had when she’d arrived. Sergio really wouldn’t put her at risk by acting in any other way.

She squeezed his fingers gratefully back. “I am perfect.”

They looked at each other adoringly before another loudspeaker announcement shattered the moment.

“The performance will begin soon. Please go to your seats—“

“Okay we get it,” Sergio muttered. 

He offered her his arm and Raquel took it gingerly with a shy smile. His adoring attention solely on her made her feel light-footed, but she still didn’t feel completely comfortable with his PPOs present. As discreet as they were, the more eyeballs were on her as she was with Sergio, the more insecure she felt about being on Sergio’s arm. She did not need any more reminders about how much she didn’t belong there.

Sergio seemed to sense her discomfort, assuming a professional stance once again. “Let us go, my lady.”

He directed her in silence toward where no other guests had been allowed to go, with his security team right at their tail.

Soon, however, for a brief instant they were alone in a stairway as Sergio had adopted a quicker pace in order to get there first with her. It was then that he leaned toward Raquel and whispered:

“You look beautiful.”

In the very next moment, he had turned his head as if nothing had happened and the PPOs flowed into the room. But Raquel couldn’t keep her face from beaming. Her heart felt agonizingly hot and she found her hand lowered on her chest as if to keep it from overboiling.

The desire to be near him was now at its most violent, and she found herself suddenly grateful that they had so few opportunities to talk alone.

Maybe it was a good thing, that she was forced to suppress all this. Nothing good could come out of her letting her true feelings run amok. Being exposed would be a catastrophe and it being her own fault would wreck her. 

Yes, it was better this way. He would be kingly courteous to her and Raquel would bestow him with all her kindness without assuming the familiarity they had once slipped into. She would just have to kill any and all tender feelings that rose in her chest when she was near him. Perhaps for the rest of her life.

Raquel swallowed, suddenly feeling rather miserable.

* * *

This had been a bad idea.

He knew it as soon as he sat down and witnessed Raquel take her seat next to him, her dress tightening over the curve of her hips. Sergio was forced to quickly turn his head. 

They were seated so close that her lacy skirt caressed his thigh. There were no handles on the chairs they were sitting on, and he’d never cursed a design choice more. He brought his hand away from the inviting softness of her gown, bit his tongue, and focused his eyes on the opposite wall. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. 

They were alone in the front seats, making this all considerably harder. Luckily, there were Silene and Aníbal quietly chattering behind them, having finally arrived only 2 hours late from the planned rendezvous time. Their presence would ease his discomfort somewhat throughout the night. He didn’t know what would happen if it was just him and Raquel in this dark booth. Raquel, with her small red mouth and her eyes like two low-banked embers. 

He could sense their velvety warmth on him, but the second he turned his gaze to meet hers, her eyes snapped back to the program she was holding in her gloved hands. He could see from the quivering of the corner of her mouth that she was nervous.

The thought saddened him a little. He wanted her to be comfortable in his company, the way she had been comfortable with him the first time they had properly met back in the palace. But that had been before she had known about how he longed for her, before he had kissed her and tried to convince her to be with him. No wonder she was nervous, his attention was the last thing she needed right now and just one wrong look or touch would send her skittering away like a frightened deer. 

He wouldn’t want that. He wanted her to feel safe, so he would do absolutely nothing to make her feel uncomfortable. If that meant sitting deathly still and suffering throughout the whole performance, so be it. 

Just as Sergio was wondering whether it had been a bad move to call Raquel beautiful (perhaps she would have preferred “you look alright” instead), the lights dimmed and the performance began.

It was a modern opera piece, about two immigrants working minimum wage jobs at a summer resort in Donostia. Despite their radically different backgrounds, the two feel drawn to each other. Without knowing a word of Basque, this is as much as Sergio understood as the scenes play out on the stage. Everything else went right over his head.

But he did not mind. Sergio couldn’t help but smile as he watched Raquel’s lips part and her eyes flickered with thousand different emotions as she followed the events of the opera. She was so beautiful, engrossed in the story so fully that he was glad he had brought her. He could watch her all night like this.

Then, Raquel glanced his way and in a haste to hide his adoring expression, Sergio looked at the stage with a frown.

“Oh my god, I was supposed to translate for you,” she gasped. “I am so sorry.”

Sergio let out a quiet chuckle. “Hey, you don’t actually have to—“

Raquel interrupted him by quickly recapping what had happened thus far, after which she switched to quietly translating each line and lyric as it was uttered. Yet, Sergio still couldn’t hear much of her. In her attempt not to disturb Silene and Aníbal behind them, she kept her voice low and soft. The effort was not reciprocated. The couple had not stopped joking around and tittering amongst themselves since the lights went out. Sergio suspected Silene couldn’t name a single line of a song from the opera even with a gun to her head.

Sergio clenched his jaw and concentrated all his willpower to ignoring them. It probably hadn’t been the best idea to invite Silene and her boyfriend along, her being the least artistically inclined member of their friend group and Aní had the attention span of a fruit fly when it came to anything not displayed in binary code. But he had to think of someone once his brain decided to spring an impromptu opera invitation on her. He couldn't possibly go with her alone, that would be a date, and Silene and Aníbal had been the first ones that had come to his mind. And once he told her they would be coming along, he had to make sure they really would and so he had ended up bribing them both with a stay at the royal palace in Lanzarote just so that they would sit quietly behind them and make Raquel feel more comfortable.

Quietly, being the key word. The two had not shut up since they had seated themselves, and if their booth wasn’t isolated from everyone else, Sergio would feel the personal need to apologize to every single person that had been disturbed by them.

He could bear it only up to the point where Raquel started stumbling on her words after getting distracted by their conversation and apologized. Sergio had enough. He intended to offer some choice words to the two chatterboxes behind him, when their conversation suddenly ceased.

It was quiet again, and Sergio could hear Raquel’s soothingly warm voice. He relaxed and let his attention drift back to her, content.

That was when he started hearing noise from the backseat again. Noise that sounded disconcertingly much like the build-up to copulation.

“For god’s sake!” he finally snapped, startling Raquel next to him. He twisted his head around. “What are you two, animals? This is the Royal Opera House, not the backseat of a rental.”

Aníbal let out an embarrassed whine while Silene just scoffed.

“Well excuse me, _papa_.”

Sergio could just about hear her eye roll despite the darkness of the booth.

“Sit still and pay attention or leave,” he warned.

“Fine. C’mon, Aní. Let’s go find somewhere more private,” Silene said, abruptly standing up.

“Wait, no—“

Before he could take back his words, Silene had already pulled her boyfriend up and was making her way out. As her final transgression, she poked her tongue out at Sergio and closed the door behind them.

Well, that had backfired.

Now they were completely and utterly alone, and dread was twisting Sergio’s insides into knots. He had not predicted losing Silene and Aníbal. There was no plan beyond this point.

He could sense Raquel shift in her seat anxiously. He turned to look at her at the same time as she turned to look at him.

They smiled nervously at each other for a moment before quickly looking away, Raquel at the ceiling and him at the floor.

“They were distracting. That is why I told them to go,” he felt the need to explain, a small ridiculous part of him concerned that Raquel thought he had gotten rid of them on purpose.

Raquel remained silent, so he kept on blabbering. “Even before they started— you know, I couldn’t hear your voice from their blabber.”

“Oh, sorry. I should have been louder,” she said with an embarrassed tinge in her voice. “I am not a very good interpreter, am I?”

“No, your voice was perfect. One shouldn’t speak with their normal voice at an opera,” he attempted to comfort. 

Raquel looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she seemed to make a decision. 

She shifted closer to him, so close to him that the air is suddenly saturated with the sweet scent of her perfume, and he could feel her thigh press against his and her delicate fingers curl against his shoulder.

At once, all the coherent thoughts in his head melted.

“You’re right,” she whispered into his ear. “But I want to make sure you hear me.”

Sergio did not answer anything to that. Mainly because his consciousness was swimming somewhere on the other side of the galaxy after feeling her breath against his skin but also because he was completely and utterly incapable of protesting. This was definitely to hear her every word, what else could he even argue back?

“Tell me what you need. Everything I have is yours,” her soft voice caressed him.

It took him embarrassingly long to realize it is a translation to a Basque line in the opera.

And so Sergio’s decision to bring Raquel here turned from faint regret to hellfire-comparable agony. Somehow, he had slipped into hell in these past few hours and was currently in a torture chamber designed specifically for him by the devil itself. Hell, this whole play must have been written for this night, this instance, with Raquel’s whisper in his ear and her scent all around him.

She was so close he couldn’t think about anything else but every single millimeter of her skin that was in direct contact with his. Every movement, even an intake of breath made it worse because he could accidentally cause a curl of Raquel’s hair to brush against his skin, and then he would look fondly back to the time it was only torture of her presence he was experiencing. 

The storyline of the opera seemed to be going into a tragic direction. He was not quite sure, he had lost track of the plot about one lifetime ago despite her interpreting. In fact, he probably would have been able to comprehend what was going on better if Raquel was not whispering the translations into his ear with her raspy voice.

The scene playing out on stage was quickly turning amorous. Raquel’s tone only got lower and lower until he could swear each syllable she uttered was coated in dark chocolate. He was starting to feel an increasing need to take a long, freezing-cold shower.

“Now kiss me like it is the last time. Because it is. Tonight is the last night we are free like this,” she translated, her voice catching once, deliciously, that made Sergio feel the need to adjust himself.

He clenched his eyes shut. Just one more word from her lips and he feared he would snap. He would grab her. Push her down against that seat. Clutch at the lace of her skirts. 

_Focus._

The performers were amidst a passionate embrace on the stage. Raquel had suddenly gotten silent, very silent. He couldn’t even hear her breathe. It was almost as if she was afraid to do so. 

Then, her little fingers curled on his bicep and she leaned in for a whisper again.

“Touch me. Please.” Her exhale sounded almost like a sigh.

 _It was just a line from the opera, just a line from the opera_ , he chanted in his mind while the more sinful mental imagery threatened to take hold of him.

_He would kiss her. Smudge the perfect coat of lipstick from her mouth. Rip aside the fabric. Touch her. Make her scream._

“Kiss me there,” Raquel translated, more confidently this time as the performance grew even more heated, the man sliding his hands down the woman’s body as she threw her head back. Sergio was starting to feel more claustrophobic than ever inside the darkened opera booth. The tension inside was suffocating.

It was everything and not enough.

“Lower,” Raquel commanded breathlessly.

Sergio couldn’t take it anymore. He would do anything to silence her, no matter how rude it may seem. 

He was too close to the breaking point.

Another line was uttered on the stage, but before Raquel got to translate it, Sergio gripped at her arm. Desperately. Begging her to stop.

The lights went out at the same time as Raquel reacted. 

It was pitch black and the woman on the stage is singing in the darkness but none of that registers to Sergio because his senses are overslaught with the most wonderful sensation in the world.

Raquel was kissing him. 

Her hands were in his hair and her hot, soft mouth was pressing feverishly against his again and again. After growing conscious of the fact that he was indeed alive and this plunge into darkness with Raquel’s lips on him is not some devil’s ploy to walk away from the light, he grabbed her and roughly drew her onto his lap. He then answered her kiss with enough force to bruise her lips. Raquel gasped.

She was all frenzy and urgency and passion and tasted somehow better than in all his dreams about her combined. He couldn’t get enough of her, winding his hands everywhere along her body like he is trying to hog an armful of heaven. She felt like velvet in his arms and he couldn’t get enough.

She was now moaning softly against his mouth and he could feel her stocking leg against his fingers. It was making him see stars. He felt like a man who had been wandering around in a wilderness for years without another’s touch before suddenly finding, well, _Raquel_. God, it really had felt like years since the last time he got to touch her. Every kiss more she gave him was making it seem like centuries.

He was never letting go. Never, never, never.

The second the lights started coming back, he felt her push herself from him with an abrupt motion. In the dim lightning, he saw her clamber back on her seat. Unconsciously, he reached for her, unwilling to let their connection fracture, but then brightness flooded the room and people stood up in roaring applause at the end of the first act. His hand curled away, hesitant, and then the precious moment was truly over. Raquel sat frozen in her seat, her features twisted in pale shock. She looked almost nauseous.

A little slowly, a little stiffly, he stood up to clap before realizing he was straining against his trousers. He quickly shot down again while Raquel remained sitting, still white and wide-eyed. He did not turn to address her which turned out to be a mistake because the very moment the applause ended, she sprang from her seat and rushed out like an enemy army was at her tail. The sight made his heart plunge into his stomach. 

Sergio whipped around after her, but before he could do as much as lift himself an inch from his seat, the doors opened and a gaggle of people streamed in. The entirety of Spain’s high society seemed to have been waiting just outside to get a chance to suck up to him. At any other time Sergio would have been able to welcome these people with a somewhat convincing smile on his face, but now he could only stare at them with open antagonism. 

Not now, not now that he had been given something he’d missed so desperately it hurt. He had to grasp at a loose thread of that treasure before it was too late.

But there was no escaping even if he’d wanted to. Before he even knew it, he was introduced to the 98-year old Basque poet and he didn’t have the heart to brush him off. Besides, he really could not rise from his seat before managing to cool down under the programme he was inconspicuously holding over his crotch. 

After the poet followed another special guest and another, and it took almost half an hour before he was finally able to excuse himself (if only because of less than subtle references to his bladder). It was almost definitely too late when he finally got out of the booth, but still, he set off.

If people found it odd to see the King of Spain power-walking through the hallways of the Royal Opera House, they certainly did not stop to point it out to him. They simply made way for him, probably thinking that he was on his way to declare war against Portugal or the like. What they didn’t know was that the matter was even more crucial than that because it was her and she could be anywhere by now. 

He couldn’t let her slip from her fingers like this. He’d worked too hard to keep her in his life to allow her to be freaked out by something as silly as what had just happened. It was just a kiss. It didn’t have to mean anything.

_But god, he wanted it to mean something._

He found himself in the empty lobby at the end of his search. All the other guests had vacated to the bar area, leaving him relative freedom to panic in peace. Raquel was gone and he was never going to get to speak to her again 

That was when his eyes drifted to a pair of blue heels peeking from underneath a heavy, red curtain that was used as a partition between the lobby and the less aesthetically-pleasing storage space for the chairs and tables.

Ah. 

He approached the curtain carefully, like a wolf who did not want to scare its prey away until he realized this hideout’s occupant had nowhere else to escape than through him. He simply drew the curtains aside and exposed Raquel who let out a startled little peep and stumbled back. He closed the curtain after him, hiding them from view again, with only their feet showing.

His mind was still a little foggy from her heartstopping kiss. The words he’d rehearsed floated swiftly away so he simply just looked at her.

More specifically, he looked at her rose-red mouth.

His heart demanded that he capture her in his arms and continue where they left off, but the last scraps of his senses made him hold himself together. By that point, Raquel had regained her speech faculties.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me—,” she stammered.

Sergio tried to take a step closer but she only retreated, shaking her head furiously.

“This is horrifying. I can’t believe I kissed you. You-you are the King and I just kissed you.”

“With all due respect, that is part of every royal interpreter’s field of responsibilities,” he tried to joke, but Raquel only stared up at him with an aghast expression.

“Do you think anyone saw?” 

“Of course not, Raquel. It was pitch black,” he rushed to comfort. “And even if someone happened to gaze up there and see, I wouldn’t let them say a word about it. I have the means to keep people quiet.”

He was speaking the truth. He would never let anything bad happen to her. Never.

She pursed her lips together, looking troubled. “You shouldn’t need to do that.”

He tried to continue in vain. “Of course I would, you’re my friend and I—“ 

“Yes!” she cried, his words prompting her to collect her thoughts with record speed. “We are friends. I only came here as your friend. You’re committed to someone else—god, what the hell was I thinking?”

Sergio refrained from stating that he would give Alicia’s position to Raquel in a heartbeat if she asked. Instead, he tried:

“It is alright—“

“No, no, no. This is not fair to you. I am the one who demanded we just be friends and then I go and do this,” she said, flailing her hand from her to Sergio.

He continued gazing at her with the same tender, unchanging expression on his face which seemed to visibly trouble Raquel.

“It messed with your head, didn’t it?” She asked, folding her hands behind her into an innocent posture, as if she hoped she would still be found not guilty.

Sergio ripped his eyes from the enticing sight of her flushed cheeks and tousled hair to try consider this question with some lucidity. After failing to clear out the persisting Raquel-induced haze from her mind, he was forced to admit the truth.

“A bit, yes.”

Raquel released a breath she had been holding, like she had been saving it up for just this answer and then directed her gaze at the ground. Her cheeks were flushed with shame.

“I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake and—I am so sorry.”

“If anyone needs to apologize, it would be me. You were obviously going for a sisterly kiss on the cheek but I happened to turn my head at the wrong time,” Sergio tried to joke in order to lift the mood. 

Raquel let out what sounded like an involuntary snort. He smiled, and Raquel did too as she saw his face.

“You think how you reacted was very brotherly?” She asked dryly.

Sergio shrugged. ”It is pitch black and I receive the most wonderful kiss. It could have been anyone. Who was I to think too hard about it?”

Raquel looked pleased about his description of that kiss, looking at him through her lashes with her lips in a fond bow. It gave Sergio some confidence and he was just about to approach her again when suddenly, behind them the curtain parted a hint and a male head poked in.

Just as quickly as the man had scanned the storage area, he disappeared behind the curtain again. 

“That is the second time this has happened,” she said, confused. “That guy just looks in here, does nothing and leaves.”

Sergio smiled. “That is just Sebastian. I assigned him for your security for this evening. I suppose he is just checking that you are still here and have not escaped through an air vent or something. He would get into quite the trouble if you disappeared on his watch.”

Raquel frowned. “You assigned security for me? You really think someone is going to snipe me at an opera just for being in your company?”

Sergio briefly thought of Alicia but pushed that idea aside quickly.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he said warmly. “Eventually you will have five.”

The words rolled off his tongue before he had time to consider them. Sergio opened his mouth to take them back, realized he couldn’t and just fell into trepidated silence.

Raquel laughed incredulously. “Why would I ever have five? That is how much you have—”

Then, her face paled as she realized. The next second, the deepest flush Sergio had ever seen on her face blossomed on her cheeks and her lips locked shut in astonishment.

“Oh, Sergio…” she finally sighed, pained, and even now his name sounded like the sweetest thing on her lips. He felt the urge to close his eyes and revel in it.

Raquel was backing away from him, but slowly and hesitantly, almost as if her legs were too weak to carry her confidently. 

"You shouldn’t think about me in that way,” she tried to command, not too convincingly.

 _Too late_ , he whispered in his mind and took a step forward.

"I shouldn't have come,” she insisted as he came to her and took her hands. She did not protest.

He smiled tenderly. “I am glad you did.” 

Her face twisted in grief. "I am giving you false hope.”

"I don't mind,” he said softly, bringing her hands to his chest and squeezing them against his heart. He wouldn’t let her shy away now, not when such precious things were on the tips of their tongues. 

Raquel tenderly brushed her thumb over Sergio’s knuckles, and that simple motion was like a burst of fire into his veins. He felt more confident than ever, believing that right now he could convince her to do something as preposterous as cross an ocean with him tonight. She was so soft and welcoming, having glided closer to him as he’d drawn her hands against him and was now looking at him with such big, shining eyes. 

Then, she craned her neck toward him and Sergio’s speech vanished swiftly and thoroughly from his head. Instead, he put his mind to a far more pressing matter of getting her lips against him as fast as humanly possible.

The curtain swished open again and they snapped apart.

This time, a member of Sergio’s own security team pushed his head inside, confirmed that Sergio was, indeed, in this storage place before disappearing again.

"Oh for God's sake,” Sergio hissed, let go of Raquel and slipped behind the curtain.

Outside, both Sergio’s bodyguards and Sebastian were standing in a semi-circle-like form in front of the curtain, looking a mixture of confusion and helplessness. Sergio being alone with a lady in a hidden corner must be something they had no protocol for which he could blame himself for, but in this precise moment he directed all his ire at his staff. He cursed aloud and made a shooing motion with his hand as if he was trying to chase away an overtly curious animal.

That finally seemed to give them the hint and they started backing away, but it was too late. Raquel followed after him from behind the curtain and now stood there awkwardly in front of them all.

“I think I’ll go back to our seats now,” she announced quietly, avoiding eye contact with every single person in the room.

“I’ll take you,” Sergio hurried to say and moved to her side.

She hesitated, biting her lip. Finally, she lowered her voice into a whisper. “Wouldn’t they wonder if we came back… er, together.”

“You could tell everyone that you just accompanied señora Murillo out for a breath of fresh air after she felt ill, Your Majesty,” suggested one of his PPOs.

“Good idea,” Sergio said while Raquel’s complexion started resembling one of a peony.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” piped up an older PPO. “Just return to the seats using your separate ways. That is what your late father would have done.”

“Uh,” Sergio considered. The shade of Raquel’s face was starting to take after her lipstick.

“Whatever you do, Your Majesty, you cannot let your companion return like… that.”

Sergio took one look at Raquel’s mussed up hair and smudged make-up and nodded. “You are right. I’ll have Julia take her back to the tent for a fix-up. Then Sebastian can—”

“No,” Raquel said loudly.

Sergio turned to look at her, confused. “They would be happy to help.”

“I said no,” she snapped. “Just let me go!” She batted away Sergio’s hand that had automatically reached out for her.

“Raquel—”

“How hard is it to understand that I don’t want any of this? I can do things myself. God, this is all driving me mental!”

She started marching away, steaming, the lace of her gown furiously swishing as she went.

Sergio took an instinctive step after her, but was stopped by a hand lowering on his shoulder. It was Sebastian.

“What are you doing, Your Majesty?” he asked, frowning. “You heard her.”

Sergio realized he was right. He swallowed, hard and stood still, watching her go.

As he watched her open the doors back where the others were and saw how relieved she looked to step back into the light, he felt like someone had bunched their fist around a part of his soul and teared it off.

* * *

The rest of the night was comfortable enough.

Sergio never made a single reference to the kiss or her rather unladylike outburst from earlier. He just quietly sat next to her and did not mind when she was too moved by the performance to translate the lines. The ending had been tragic. The two lovers seperated because of the cruelty of fate and her eyes were swimming in tears by the time the curtain closed.

The last lines echoed in her head like faraway thunder.

_I wish you were not you_

_And I was not me_

_But you were still you_

_And I was still me_

Only the gentle weight of his hand on hers made her finally snap back to reality and she turned her blurred gaze to him.

“Oh I am sorry, I forgot to translate again—”

“It’s okay,” he comforted. “I think I understood.”

He looked so thoroughly unhappy that there was no doubt about whether he’d understood the ending or not, but still, she felt bad. He wouldn’t hear her apologies, however, and gently drew her up instead, his gloved hand firmly clasped with hers.

Together, they applauded until the performers got tired of running back to the stage and the curtains lowered. They seated themselves back down and dwelled in an strangely easy silence. His gaze was heavy on her, but she did not mind. She just let it rest there and eventually spoke of quiet nonsense, comforting in its trivialness compared to what was weighing on both of their minds.

Finally, she expressed her tiredness and Sergio nodded understandingly.

To her surprise, after they left the booth he did not leave her side as the men and women of the highest standing instantaneously swarmed him. The crook of his arm simply remained fixed for her to hold onto, his other hand resting on hers, as he kept them moving, politely thwarting conversation starters with the most imposing of gentlemen on the account of her being tired, gently escorting her out like she was the most important person in Spain.

Her! His interpreter! One could only wonder how he treated his future queen. 

The thought made Raquel blush furiously and push the thought back deep inside her.

“Here,” he said, draping her coat around her after getting it from the checkroom. For a heartbeat, Raquel wanted to lean back and let him envelope her in his arms and just stay there until the oceans froze, but the moment escaped from her and then he was already gone, having stepped back after his assistance was no longer needed.

They both stared at each other hesitantly, wanting the night not to end but not sure which words would allow them to spend just a few moments more together. Sergio’s expression was particularly yearning, making her skin feel prickly and shivery. But the rest of him looked so dejected that her chest hurt.

“This night was just lovely—” she began.

“One word from you and I will never speak of my feelings again,” Sergio spoke at the same time.

The declaration struck her dumb. For a moment, she had no idea what to say. But the utter despair on Sergio’s features couldn’t keep her silent for long, every second more felt like cruelty.

“I…” she began, swallowed, reconsidered, then began again shakily. _God, why was it so painful to say these things aloud?_

“I think it is best if we don’t let anything like that happen again. You know that I can’t—”

“Yes, I understand,” Sergio said quickly.

The hollow feeling in her chest was rapidly expanding, making every bone in her body ache. 

“Do you still want to be friends?” she asked quietly.

Sergio looked at her stonily in response, not giving any clue of his thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he finally asked.

“Well, I did just make things significantly more complicated,” she said, wringing her hands and looking down.

“No, it is quite simple. We are… friends. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Something about his answer and the expression as he said it did not exactly comfort her. 

”I really am sorry about that kiss. I promise I will never do it again.”

Sergio’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “If you do, I‘ll push you away.”

“Yeah, sure,” she snorted, recalling the way Sergio had instantly grabbed onto her as she had pressed her lips against his and kissed her like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Unbidden shivers ran through her skin and she was forced to wind her arms around herself.

Now he looked terribly sad again. “Do you really think, between one kiss and continuing to have you in my life, I would choose the former?”

Such an agonizingly raw emotion exploded in her chest at the question that tears almost sprung to her eyes. He really, deeply cared for her. It was astonishing.

She was so moved that it was hard to contain all of what was booming within her inside. “Oh what the hell,” she muttered before launching forward and slinging her arms around him. She buried herself against his soft suit jacket and squeezed him as hard as she could, as if he would fade away if she did not hold onto him tight enough.

Sergio remained stiff and unmoving up until the last moment when he finally awkwardly hugged her back.

I am sorry,” she whispered once again. But this time, she was not talking about the kiss. Sergio seemed to understand, exhaling deeply into her hair.

Eventually, she slowly untangled herself with a nervous chuckle.

“I really hope not too many people saw.” 

“I’ll take care of all who did,” Sergio muttered and Raquel laughed at the solemnity of his voice.

He rubbed at his neck and looked at the exit. “Do you want me to call for Sebastian so he can take you to the car? I think the press is still out there.”

Raquel shook her head. “It’s alright. I can handle it.”

That was not the answer Sergio had wanted to hear, judging by the tightening of his features. It made her smile a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

He still did not look willing to release her to the mercy of the press which made her smile.

 _Take me yourself then_ , she wanted to say but didn’t. For obvious reasons. A small sadness pricked at her chest at the thought.

* * *

In the end, Raquel agreed to have Sebastian take her to ease Sergio’s nerves. 

After a moment, she left with the PPO, giving Sergio a small, cutesy wave that made his heart hurt.

As she walked away, Sergio was left wondering how in the hell he’d become so unlucky as to not even be able to walk the woman he loved to her car.


End file.
